FOND words have oft been spoken to thee, Sleep! And thou hast had thy store of tenderest names; The very sweetest, Fancy culls or frames, When thankfulness of heart is strong and deep! Dear Bosom-child we call thee, that dost steep In rich reward all suffering; Balm that tames All anguish; Saint that evil thoughts and aims Takest away, and into souls dost creep, Like to a breeze from heaven. Shall I alone, I surely not a man ungently made, Call thee worst Tyrant by which Flesh is crost? Perverse, self-willed to own and to disown, Mere slave of them who never for thee prayed, Still last to come where thou art wanted most! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SAPPHO AND PHAON: 2. THE TEMPLE OF CHASTITY by MARY DARBY ROBINSON MUTABILITY (2) by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY DIFFERENT MINDS by RICHARD CHENEVIX TRENCH IN YOUTH IS PLEASURE by ROBERT WEVER MYSTERIOUS LIFE by EMMA BERGSTROM ULYSSES BUILDS HIS BED by JEAN DE BOSSCHERE TO A.G.A. by EMILY JANE BRONTE THE CANTERBURY TALES: THE FRIAR'S PROLOGUE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |