In a tangled, scented hollow,
On a bed of crimson roses,
Stilly now the wind reposes;
Hardly can the breezes borrow
Breath to stir the night-swept river.
Motionless the water-sedges,
And within the dusky hedges
Sounds no leaf’s impatient shiver.
Sleep has come, that rare rest-giver.
Light and song have flown away...
Just ere the darkness is withdrawn,
In seasons of cold or heat,
Close to the boundary line of Dawn
These mystical brothers meet.
They clasp their weird and shadowy hands,
As they listen each to each,
But never a mortal understands
Their strange immortal speech.
withdraw thee, soul, from strife.
Enter thine unseen bark,
And sail across the dark,
The silent sea of life.
Leave Care and Grief, feared now no more,
To wave and beckon from the shore.
Thy tenement is bare.
Shut are the burning eyes,
Ears deaf against surprise,
Limbs in a posture fair.
...
Not drowsihood and dreams and mere idless,
Nor yet the blessedness of strength regained,
Alone are in what men call sleep. The past,
My unsuspected soul, my parents’ voice,
The generations of my forbears, yea,
The very will of God himself are there
And potent-working: so that many a doubt
Is wiped away at daylight, many a soil
...
Whipp’will ’s singin’ to de moon,—
Go sleep, ma honey, m—m.
He sing a pow’ful mo’nful tune,
Go sleep, ma honey, m—m.
De day bird ’s sleepin’ on his nes’,
He know it time to take a res’,
An’ he gwine ter do his lebel bes’,—
Go sleep, ma honey, m—m.
Old banjo ’s laid away,—
Go sleep, ma honey, m—m....
Whipp’will ’s singin’ to de moon,—
Go sleep, ma honey, m—m.
He sing a pow’ful mo’nful tune,
Go sleep, ma honey, m—m.
De day bird ’s sleepin’ on his nes’,
He know it time to take a res’,
An’ he gwine ter do his lebel bes’,—
Go sleep, ma honey, m—m.
Old banjo ’s laid away,—
Go sleep, ma...
Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for to-night!
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;—
Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to...
“He giveth his belovèd sleep.”
—PSALM cxxvii. 2.
OF all the thoughts of God that are
Borne inward unto souls afar,
Among the Psalmist’s music deep,
Now tell me if that any is,
For gift or grace, surpassing this,—
“He giveth his belovèd sleep”?
What would we give to our beloved?
The hero’s heart, to be unmoved,—...
From “The Faërie Queene,” Book I. Canto I.
HE, making speedy way through spersèd ayre,
And through the world of waters wide and deepe,
To Morpheus house doth hastily repaire,
Amid the bowels of the earth full steepe,
And low, where dawning day doth never peepe,
His dwelling is; there Tethys his wet bed
Doth ever wash, and...
From “Valentinian”
COME, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving
Lock me in delight awhile;
Let some pleasing dreams beguile
All my fancies, that from thence
I may feel an influence,
All my powers of care bereaving!
Though but a shadow, but a sliding,
Let me know some little joy!
We that suffer long...
