You lay so still in the sunshine,
So still in that hot sweet hour – 
That the timid things of the forest land
Came close; a butterfly lit on your hand,
Mistaking it for a flow’r.

You scarcely breath’d in your slumber,
So dreamless it was, so deep– 
While the warm air stirr’d in my veins like wine,
The air that had blown thro’ a jasmine vine,
But you slept – and I let you sleep.