Over their sleepy lids—and so she rais'd
Her aqualine nose above the stream, and gazed.
XVII.
She oped her lips—lips of a gentle blush,
So pale it seem'd near drownèd to a white,—
She oped her lips, and forth there sprang a gush
Of music bubbling through the surface light;
The leaves are motionless, the breezes hush
To listen to the air—and through the night
There come these words of a most plaintive ditty,