As Ann Came In One Summer'S Day, She Felt That She Must Creep, So Silent Was The Clear Cool House, It Seemed A House Of Sleep. And Sure, When She Pushed Open The Door, Rapt In The Stillness There, Her Mother Sat, With Stooping Head, Asleep Upon A Chair; Fast - Fast Asleep; Her Two Hands Laid Loose-Folded On Her Knee, So That Her Small Unconscious Face Looked Half Unreal To Be: So Calmly Lit With Sleep'S Pale Light Each Feature Was; So Fair Her Forehead - Every Trouble Was Smooth'D Out Beneath Her Hair. But Though Her Mind In Dream Now Moved, Still Seemed Her Gaze To Rest From Out Beneath Her Fast-Sealed Lids, Above Her Moving Breast, On Ann, As Quite, Quite Still She Stood; Yet Slumber Lay So Deep Even Her Hands Upon Her Lap Seemed Saturate With Sleep. And As Ann Peeped, A Cloudlike Dread Stole Over Her, And Then, On Stealthy, Mouselike Feet She Trod, And Tiptoed Out Again.