IDLY SHE YAWNED

by: George Moore (1852-1933)

      DLY she yawned, and threw her heavy hair
      Across her flesh-filled shoulders, called the maid,
      And slipped her sweet blonde body out of bed,
      Searching her slippers in the wintry air.
       
      The fire shed over all a sullen glare,--
      Then in her bath she sponged from foot to head,
      Her body, arms, breasts, thighs, and things unsaid,
      Powdered and dried herself with delicate care.
       
      Then Zoë entered with the Figaro,
      The chocolate, the letters, and the cat,
      And drew the blinds to show the falling snow,
      Upon the sofa still her mistress sat
      Drawing her long legs, as white as milk,
      Her long stockings of finely-knitted silk.

"Idly She Yawned" is reprinted from Pagan Poems. George Moore. London: Newman, 1881.

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