The cradle, carved like an open shell
Of ebony, polished bright,
Was all inlaid with silver rare
That shone in the mellow light,—
Which streamed through the tiny curtains, wove
Of silver gauze and velvet flowers,
And lightly touched the infant’s cheek,
As it lay in satin wrappings, weak,
And slept through the quiet hours;
And the princess dreamed in her costly bed,