Her chief occupation during the day was to try to remember how the lines went: Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber dropping hair; and the effort worried her because the adjectives persisted in getting into the wrong places.
The second day did not differ very much from the first day, except that her bed had become very important, and the world outside, when she tried to think of it, appeared distinctly further off.

The glassy, cool, translucent wave was almost visible before her, curling up at the end of the bed, and as it was refreshingly cool she tried to keep her mind fixed upon it.

Helen was here, and Helen was there all day long; sometimes she said that it was lunchtime, and sometimes that it was teatime; but by the next day all landmarks were obliterated, and the outer world was so far away that the different sounds, such as the sounds of people moving overhead, could only be ascribed to their cause by a great effort of memory.

The recollection of what she had felt, or of what she had been doing and thinking three days before, had faded entirely.

On the other hand, every object in the room, and the bed itself, and her own body with its various limbs and their different sensations were more and more important each day.