Sonnet to Isa Sleeping

by Thomas Holley Chivers

As graceful as the Babylonian willow

Bending, at noontide, over some clear stream

In Palestine, in beauty did she seem

Upon the cygnet-down of her soft pillow;

And now her breast heaved like some gentle billow

Swayed by the presence of the full round moon

Voluptuous as the summer South at noon

Her cheeks as rosy as the radiant dawn

When heaven is cloudless! When she breated, the air

Around was perfume! Timid as the fawn,

And meeker than the dove, her soft words were

Like gentle music heard at night, when all

Around is still until the soul of care

Was soothed, as noontide by some waterfall.