The Awakening Poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter

Once she woke to fairyland,
Now she wakes to grief,
All the golden days are gone,
Lost by time—the thief.
Once she sprang to meet the dawn,
Now so loth to rise;
She to greet the coming day
Opens heavy eyes.
Singing bird and budding trees,
Bloom of rose unfurled,
All her hopes are far from these,
In the under-world.
What for her the upper-earth?
Lone she wanders here.
Silent in the underground
They who held her dear;
In the happy night they rise,
Each belovèd face;
Phantoms circling by her couch
Hold her in embrace.
See! she springs to meet the day,
Up with eager breath,
Then remembering, prays for sleep,
Sleep so like to death.