Year after year unto her feet
She lying on her couch alone
Across the purple coverlet
The maiden’s jet-black hair has grown
On either side her tranced form
The slumbrous light is rich and warm
And moves not on the rounded curl
The silk star-broider’d coverlid
Unto her limbs itself doth mould
Languidly ever; and, amid
Her full black ringlets downward roll’d
Glows forth each softly-shadow’d arm
Her constant beauty doth inform
Stillness with love, and day with light
Shе sleeps: her breathings are not hеard
In palace chambers far apart
The fragrant tresses are not stirr’d
That lie upon her charmed heart
She sleeps: on either hand upswells
She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells
A perfect form in perfect rest
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