Come, Sleep, thou languid, lovely child of night, Deep-eyed and luring in thy tenderness! Come, close the tired eyes with soft caress And woo the mind to dreams of still delight! But yesterday I saw you kiss the white, Drawn features of a woman in distress; And then she smiled, forgetful of duress, It seemed, and drifting to joy's cloudless height. And this thy gift, O drowsy god of dusk! To for a space make sensate things a dream Forgot; to give the fancy form and keep The soul in visions, making life a husk Too mean for use; to bring a sacred gleam Of heaven into care's domain, O Sleep! |