To sleep! To float upon a dreamless wave! To feel the wind-swept senses softly close Their portals from the currents of the day! Delicious languor of the drooping lids! A healing darkness on the aching eyes, When sounds become but dying cadences Which murmur into wooing silences; The soft sweet wonder of forgetfulness That creeps with its narcotic on each nerve: Then slips the soul her anchor from all thought; On each receding tide of consciousness, She drifts away upon oblivion's sea, Far out to calm upon the ocean's night. |