Diana lay sleeping in the West,
Her snowy, lissome limbs were bare;
Her robe had slipped adown her breast
And Phoebus, ‘raptured, saw her there.
The sleeper felt his look of flame
And restless, tossed her arms with grace;
Awoke — then blushing at her shame
Within her mantle hid her face!
(James Edwin Campbell)
More Poetry from James Edwin Campbell:
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