Warwick Deeping

She lay still awhile, and let her thoughts dance like the motes in the shimmer of sunlight that stole in between the branches.

She climbed out, and stood like a water nymph, her body agleam and asparkle with its dew, her skin like rare silk, smooth as a star's glance. Down fell her hair like smoke. She stretched her arms to the moon, and laughed, aglow with the warmth gotten of her swim.

Night was in the sky, night in her winter austerity - keen, clear, a-glitter with stars as though her robe were spangled with cosmic frost.