Her snowy wings tugged at the anchor chain.
I slept profoundly; when I woke, the sun
Already more than half his course had run.
Light willing feet were moving round my couch,
And gentle hands with ministering touch.
They brought me dainties, and their cheerful words,
The hum of honey-bees, the voice of birds,
The grand old forest’s potent influence
Subdued and mingled with my every sense,
And moved my being to accord and tune