She slept beneath a tree — Summary

In just a few gentle strokes, the poem gives us a private, almost dreamlike encounter. Someone—a woman, maybe a child—lies asleep under a tree, and only the speaker remembers her. The isolation of that "Remembered but by me" feels tender and a little lonely, as if this is a hidden bond no one else shares. When the speaker quietly touches her cradle, the whole scene shifts: the sleeper seems to sense the presence, recognizes a footstep or a familiar visitor, and then puts on a "carmine suit"—a vivid, red garment that suggests life, warmth, perhaps even the flush of awakening. The final "And see!" feels like a sudden opening, as if she has transformed or come fully alive in response to being remembered. The mood is hushed and intimate, mixing affection with a faint eerie wonder, like catching a glimpse of a spirit only one person is meant to see.