To A Sleeping Maid Poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter

Oh! do not rudely wake her, nor reproach
Those pulsing limbs for this hostility
To timid life, that cast in death-like way
What he had moulded for his ecstasy.
Nay! rather pity one so keen to leave
For swift oblivion that alluring world,
Whose morning sun doth seek with gentle breath
To lift the lashes on her soft cheek curled.
Sleep! enemy of life, and jealous foe
Of this earth's joys, now holds her to his kiss.
Then let her lie; hers is a goodly choice
That finds in dreams a world more fair than this.