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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
BALLADE OF SLEEP, by ANDREW LANG Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: The hours are passing slow | |||
The hours are passing slow, I hear their weary tread Clang from the tower, and go Back to their kinsfolk dead. Sleep! death's twin brother dread! Why dost thou scorn me so? The wind's voice overhead Long wakeful here I know, And music from the steep Where waters fall and flow. Wilt thou not hear me, Sleep? All sounds that might bestow Rest on the fever'd bed, All slumb'rous sounds and low Are mingled here and wed, And bring no drowsihed. Shy dreams flit to and fro With shadowy hair dispread; With wistful eyes that glow, And silent robes that sweep. Thou wilt not hear me; no? Wilt thou not hear me, Sleep? What cause hast thou to show Of sacrifice unsped? Of all thy slaves below I most have labour(e`)d With service sung and said; Have cull'd such buds as blow, Soft poppies white and red, Where thy still gardens grow, And Lethe's waters weep. Why, then, art thou my foe? Wilt thou not hear me, Sleep? Envoy Prince, ere the dark be shred By golden shafts, ere low And long the shadows creep: Lord of the wand of lead, Soft-footed as the snow, Wilt thou not hear me, Sleep? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest... |
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