She spoke, and her voice was like a sleepy night-wind in the grass.
"Are you coming, king ?" it said.

"I cannot rest until you are with me, gliding down the river to the great sea, and the beautiful dream-land.
The sleepiness is full of lovely things: come and see them." "Ah, my darling!" I cried.

"Had I but known!--I thought you were dead!" She lay on my bosom--cold as ice frozen to marble.

She threw her arms, so white, feebly about me, and sighed-- "Carry me back to my bed, king.

I want to sleep." I bore her to the death-chamber, holding her tight lest she should dissolve out of my arms.