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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16637-8.txt b/16637-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4b22888 --- /dev/null +++ b/16637-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1244 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sleep-Book, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sleep-Book + Some of the Poetry of Slumber + +Author: Various + +Release Date: September 3, 2005 [EBook #16637] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLEEP-BOOK *** + + + + +Produced by Pat Saumell and Chuck Greif + + + + + + + + + +SLEEP-BOOK + +SOME OF THE POETRY OF SLUMBER + +COLLECTED BY + +LEOLYN LOUISE EVERETT + +NEW YORK + +THE WATKINS COMPANY + +1910 + +Three hundred and twenty copies of this book have been printed on +hand-made Van Gelder paper, for The Watkins Company, at the press of +Styles & Cash New York, and type distributed. + +This book is No. + +To + +ETHEL DU FRÉ HOUSTON + +who has brought the joy and beauty of dream into so many lives + + + + + SLEEP-BOOK + + + + + I. + + Peace, peace, thou over-anxious, foolish heart, + Rest, ever-seeking soul, calm, mad desires, + Quiet, wild dreams--this is the time of sleep. + Hold her more close than life itself. Forget + All the excitements of the day, forget + All problems and discomforts. Let the night + Take you unto herself, her blessed self. + Peace, peace, thou over-anxious, foolish heart, + Rest, ever-seeking soul, calm, mad desires, + Quiet, wild dreams--this is the time of sleep. + + _Leolyn Louise Everett_. + + + + + II. + + Sleep, softly-breathing god! his downy wing + Was fluttering now. + + _Samuel T. Coleridge_. + + + I lay in slumber's shadowy vale + + _Samuel T. Coleridge_. + + + + + III. + + And more to lulle him in his slumber soft, + A trickling stream from high rock tumbling down + And ever-drizzling raine upon the loft, + Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne + Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne. + No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes, + As still are wont t'annoy the walled towne, + Might there be heard; but carelesse Quiet lyes + Wrapt in eternal! silence farre from enimyes. + + _Edmund Spenser_. + + + + + IV. + + The waters murmuring, + With such cohort as they keep + Entice the dewy-feathered Sleep. + _Il Penseroso_. + + _John Milton_. + + + + + V. + Ye spotted snakes with double tongue, + Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen; + Newts and blind-worms do no wrong, + Come not near our fairy queen. + Philomel, with melody + Sing in our sweet lullaby, + Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby; + Never harm. + Nor spell nor charm, + Come our lovely lady nigh + So goodnight with lullaby. + + _William Shakespeare_. + + + + + VI. + + Sleep, Silence child, sweet father of soft rest, + Prince, whose approach peace to all mortals brings, + Indifferent host to shepherds and to kings, + Sole comforter of minds with grief oppressed; + Lo, by thy charming rod all breathing things + Lie slumbering, with forgetfulness possessed. + + _William Drummond of Hawthornden_. + + + + + VII. + + 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 annoy + Are contented with a thought + Through an idle fancy wrought; + O let my joys have some abiding! + + _John Fletcher_. + + + + + VIII. + + But still let Silence trew night-watches keepe, + That sacred Peace may in assurance rayne, + And tymely Sleep, when it is time to sleep, + May pour his limbs forth on your pleasant playne; + The whiles an hundred little winged loves + Like divers-fethered doves, + Shall fly and flutter round about your bed. + + _Edmund Spenser_. + + + + + IX. + + Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes, + Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose + On this afflicted prince; fall like a cloud + In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud + Or painful to his slumbers,--easy, sweet + And as a purling stream, thou son of Night, + Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain + Like hollow murmuring wind or silver rain, + Into this prince gently, oh gently, slide + And kiss him into slumbers like a bride. + + _John Fletcher_. + + + + + X. + + God hath set + Labor and rest, as day and night, to men + Successive, and the timely dew of sleep + Now falling with soft, slumberous weight inclines + Our eyelids. + + _John Milton_. + + + + + XI. + + Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast' + Would I were sleep and peace so sweet to rest + + _William Shakespeare_. + + + The innocent sleep, + Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care, t + The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, + Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course, + Chief nourisher in life's feast. + + _William Shakespeare_. + + + + + XII. + + Come, Sleep. O, Sleep! The certain knot of peace, + The baiting place of wit, the balm of woe, + The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, + The indifferent judge between the high and low. + + _Sir Philip Sidney_. + + + + + + XIII. + + Close thine eyes, and sleep secure; + Thy soul is safe, thy body sure. + He that guards thee, he that keeps, + Never slumbers, never sleeps. + A quiet conscience in the breast + Has only peace, has only rest. + The wisest and the mirth of kings + Are out of tune unless she sings: + Then close thine eyes in peace and sleep secure, + No sleep so sweet as thine, no rest so sure. + + _Charles I, King of England_. + + + + + XIV. + + Oh, Brahma, guard in sleep + The merry lambs and the complacent kine, + The flies below the leaves and the young mice + In the tree roots, and all the sacred flocks + Of red flamingo; and my love Vijaya, + And may no restless fay, with fidget finger + Trouble his sleeping; give him dreams of me. + + _William B Yeats_. + + + + + XV. + + Solemnly, mournfully, + Dealing its dole, + The Curfew Bell + Is beginning to toll. + + Cover the embers, + And put out the light; + Toil comes with morning, + And rest with the night. + + Dark grow the windows, + And quenched is the fire; + Sound fades into silence,-- + All footsteps retire. + + No voice in the chambers, + No sound in the hall! + Sleep and oblivion + Reign over all! + + _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_. + + + + + XVI. + + Lull me to sleep, ye winds, whose fitful sound + Seems from some faint Aeolian harp-string caught; + Seal up the hundred wakeful eyes of thought + As Hermes with his lyre in sleep profound + The hundred wakeful eyes of Argus bound + + _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_. + + + + + XVII. + + Our life is twofold: Sleep hath its own world, + A boundary between the things mis-named + Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world, + And a wide realm of wild reality. + And dreams in their development have breath, + And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; + They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, + They take a weight from off our waking toils. + They do divide our being; they become + A portion of ourselves as of our time, + And look like heralds of eternity;-- + + _Lord Byron_. + + + + + XVIII. + + O gentle Sleep! Do they belong to thee, + These twinklings of oblivion? Thou dost love + To sit in meekness, like the brooding Dove, + A captive never wishing to be free. + + _William Wordsworth_. + + + + + XIX. + + O soft embalmer of the still midnight! + Shutting, with careful fingers and benign, + Our gloom-pleased eyes, embowered from the light, + Enshaded in forgetfulness divine; + O soothest Sleep! if so it pleases thee, close, + In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes, + Or wait the amen, ere thy poppy throws + Around my bed its lulling charities; + Then save me, or the passed day will shine + Upon my pillow, breeding many woes; + Save me from curious conscience, that still lords + Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; + Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, + And seal the hushed casket of my soul. + + _John Keats_. + + + + + XX. + + Sleep, that giv'st what Life denies, + Shadowy bounties and supreme, + Bring the dearest face that flies + Following darkness like a dream! + + _Andrew Lang_. + + + + + XXI. + + I have a lady as dear to me + As the westward wind and shining sea, + As breath of spring to the verdant lea, + As lover's songs and young children's glee. + + Swiftly I pace thro' the hours of light, + Finding no joy in the sunshine bright, + Waiting 'till moon and far stars are white, + Awaiting the hours of silent night. + + Swiftly I fly from the day's alarms, + Too sudden desires, false joys and harms, + Swiftly I fly to my loved one's charms, + Praying the clasp of her perfect arms. + + Her eyes are wonderful, dark and deep, + Her raven tresses a midnight steep, + But, ah, she is hard to hold and keep-- + My lovely lady, my lady Sleep! + + _Leolyn Louise Everett_. + + + + + XXII. + + Visit her, gentle Sleep! With wings of healing, + And may this storm be but a mountain-birth, + May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling, + Silent as tho' they watched the sleeping Earth! + With light heart may she rise, + Gay fancy, cheerful eyes, + Joy lift her spirit, joy attune her voice. + + _Samuel T. Coleridge_. + + + + + XXIII. + + Sleep! king of gods and men! + Come to my call again, + Swift over field and fen, + Mountain and deep: + + Come, bid the waves be still; + Sleep, streams on height and hill; + Beasts, birds and snakes, thy will + Conquereth, Sleep! + + Come on thy golden wings, + Come ere the swallow sings, + Lulling all living things, + Fly they or creep! + + Come with thy leaden wand, + Come with thy kindly hand, + Soothing on sea or land + Mortals that weep + + Come from the cloudy west, + Soft over brain and breast, + Bidding the Dragon rest, + Come to me, Sleep! + + _Andrew Lang_. + + + + + XXIV. + + Sleep, death without dying--living without life. + + _Edwin Arnold_. + + + + + XXV. + + She sleeps; her breathings are not heard + In palace-chambers far apart, + The fragrant tresses are not stirr'd + That he upon her charmed heart. + + She sleeps; on either hand upswells + The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest; + She sleeps, nor dreams but ever dwells + A perfect form in perfect rest. + + _Alfred Tennyson_. + + + + + XXVI. + + 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 them to show + Of sacrifice unsped? + Of all thy slaves below + I most have labored + 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? + + 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! + + _Andrew Lang_. + + + + + XXVII. + + I have loved wind and light, + And the bright sea, + But, holy and most secret Night, + Not as I love and have loved thee. + + God, like all highest things, + Hides light in shade, + And in the night his visitings + To sleep and dreams are clearliest made. + + _Arthur Symons_. + + + + + XXVIII. + + The peace of a wandering sky, + Silence, only the cry + Of the crickets, suddenly still, + A bee on the window sill, + A bird's wing, rushing and soft, + Three flails that tramp in the loft, + Summer murmuring + Some sweet, slumberous thing, + Half asleep: + + _Arthur Symons_. + + + + + XXIX. + + Only a little holiday of sleep, + Soft sleep, sweet sleep; a little soothing psalm + Of slumber from thy sanctuaries of calm, + A little sleep--it matters not how deep; + A little falling feather from thy wing, + Merciful Lord,--is it so great a thing? + + _Richard Le Gallienne_. + + + + + XXX. + + A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by + One after one; the sound of rain, and bees + Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas, + Smooth fields, white sheets of water and pure sky + I have thought of all by turns and yet do lie + Sleepless! + + * * * * * + + Come, blessed barrier between day and day. + Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health! + + _William Wordsworth_. + + + + + XXXI. + + Sleep is a reconciling, + + A rest that peace begets; + Does not the sun rise smiling + When fair at eve he sets' + + _Anonymous_. + + + + + XXXII. + + The cloud-shadows of midnight possess their own + repose, + The weary winds are silent or the moon is in the + deep; + Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean + knows; + + Whatever moves, or toils, or grieves, hath its + appointed sleep. + + _Percy Bysshe Shelley_. + + + + + XXXIII. + + We lay + Stretched upon fragrant heath and lulled by sound + Of far-off torrents charming the still night, + To tired limbs and over-busy thoughts + Inviting sleep and soft forgetfulness. + + _William Wordsworth_. + + + + + XXXIV. + + There is sweet music here that softer falls + Than petals from blown roses on the grass, + Or night-dews on still waters between walls + Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass; + Music that gentlier on the spirit lies + Than tired eye-lids upon tired eyes; + Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies. + Here are cool mosses deep, + And thro' the mass the ivies creep, + And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep. + And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep. + + _Alfred Tennyson_. + + + + + XXXV. + + I went into the deserts of dim sleep-- + That world which, like an unknown wilderness, + Bounds this with its recesses wide and deep + + _Percy Bysshe Shelley_. + + + + + XXXVI. + + Oh, Morpheus, my more than love, my life, + Come back to me, come back to me! Hold out + Your wonderful, wide arms and gather me + Again against your breast. I lay above + Your heart and felt its breathing firm and slow + As waters that obey the moon and lo, + Rest infinite was mine and calm. My soul + Is sick for want of you. Oh, Morpheus, + Heart of my weary heart, come back to me! + + _Leolyn Louise Everett_. + + + + + XXXVII. + + Lips + Parted in slumber, whence the regular breath + Of innocent dreams arose. + + _Percy Bysshe Shelley_. + + + + + XXXVIII. + + A late lark twitters in the quiet skies; + And from the west, + Where the sun, his day's work ended, + Lingers in content, + There falls on the old, gray city + An influence luminous and serene, + A shining peace. + + The smoke ascends + In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires + Shine, and are changed. In the valley + Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun, + Closing his benediction, + Sinks, and the darkening air + Thrills with a sense of the triumphing night-- + Night with her train of stars + And her great gift of sleep. + + _William Ernest Henley_. + + + + + XXXIX. + + Oh, Sleep! it is a gentle thing + Beloved from pole to pole! + To Mary Queen the praise be given! + She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, + That slid into my soul. + + _Samuel T. Coleridge_. + + + + + XL. + + What is more gentle than a wind in summer? + What is more soothing than the pretty hummer + That stays one moment in an open flower, + And buzzes cheerily from bower to bower? + What is more tranquil than a musk rose blowing + In a green island, far from all men's knowing? + More healthful than the leanness of dales? + More secret than a nest of nightingales? + More serene than Cordelia's countenance? + More full of visions than a high romance? + What, but thee Sleep? Soft closer of our eyes! + Low murmurer of tender lullabies! + Light hoverer around our happy pillows! + Wreather of poppy buds and weeping willows! + Silent entangler of a beauty's tresses! + Most happy listener! when the morning blesses + Thee for enlivening all the cheerful eyes + That glance so brightly at the new sun-rise. + + _John Keats_. + + + + + XLI. + + My sleep had been embroidered with dim dreams, + My soul had been a lawn besprinkled o'er + With flowers, and stirring shades of baffled beams. + + _John Keats_. + + + + + XLII. + + Sleep is a blessed thing. All my long life + I have known this, its value infinite + To man, its symbol of the perfect peace + That marks eternity, its marvellous + Relief from all the vanities and wounds, + The little battles and unrest of soul + That we call life. + Sleep is a blessed thing, + Doubly it has been taught me. All the time + I cannot have you, all the heart-sick days + Of utter yearning, of eternal ache + Of longing, longing for the sight of you, + Fade and dissolve at night and you are mine, + At least in dreams, at least in blessed dreams. + + _Leolyn Louise Everett_. + + + + + XLIII. + + Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, + In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex'd she lay + Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd + Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away; + Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day, + Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain, + Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray; + Blended alike from sunshine and from rain, + As though a rose could shut and be a bud again. + + _John Keats_. + + + + + XLIV. + + O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, + That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind + 'Till it is hush'd and smooth! O unconfin'd + Restraint! imprisoned liberty! great key + To golden palaces, strange ministrelsy, + Fountains grotesque, new trees, bespangled caves, + Echoing grottos, full of tumbling waves + And moonlight, aye, to all the mazy world + Of silvery enchantment!--who, upfurl'd + Beneath thy drowsy wing a triple hour + But renovates and lives? + + _John Keats_. + + + + + XLV. + + A sleep + Full of sweet dreams and health and quiet breathing. + + _John Keats_. + + + + + XLVI. + + Now is the blackest hour of the long night, + The soul of midnight. Now, the pallid stars + Shine in the highest silver and the wind + That creepeth chill across the sleeping world + Holdeth no hint of morning. I look out + Into the glory of the night with tired, + Wide, sleepless eyes and think of you. There is + The hush of some great spirit o'er the earth. + Here, in the silence earth and sky are met + And merged into infinity. Oh, God + Of all, Thou who beholdest Destiny + As simple, Thou who understandest life + From birth to re-birth, who knows all our souls, + Grant her Thy perfect benediction, rest. + + _Leolyn Louise Everett_. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sleep-Book, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLEEP-BOOK *** + +***** This file should be named 16637-8.txt or 16637-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/6/3/16637/ + +Produced by Pat Saumell and Chuck Greif + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sleep-Book + Some of the Poetry of Slumber + +Author: Various + +Release Date: September 3, 2005 [EBook #16637] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLEEP-BOOK *** + + + + +Produced by Pat Saumell and Chuck Greif + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1><big>SLEEP-BOOK</big></h1> + +<h3>SOME OF THE POETRY OF SLUMBER</h3> + +<h3>COLLECTED BY</h3> + +<h1>LEOLYN LOUISE EVERETT</h1> + +<h3>NEW YORK</h3> + +<h3><i>THE WATKINS COMPANY</i></h3> + +<h3>1910</h3> + +<h3><i>Three hundred and twenty copies of this book have been printed on +hand-made Van Gelder paper</i>, <i>for The Watkins Company, at the press of +Styles & Cash New York</i>, <i>and type distributed</i>.</h3> + +<h3><i>This book is No</i>.</h3> + +<div class="center"> + <img src="images/bookcover.jpg" + alt="Book Cover" title="Book Cover" /> +</div> +<h3>To</h3> + +<h3>ETHEL DU FRÉ HOUSTON</h3> + +<h3>who has brought the joy and beauty of dream<br /> into so many lives</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Peace, peace, thou over-anxious, foolish heart,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Rest, ever-seeking soul, calm, mad desires,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Quiet, wild dreams—this is the time of sleep.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hold her more close than life itself. Forget</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All the excitements of the day, forget</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All problems and discomforts. Let the night</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Take you unto herself, her blessed self.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Peace, peace, thou over-anxious, foolish heart,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Rest, ever-seeking soul, calm, mad desires,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Quiet, wild dreams—this is the time of sleep.</span><br /><br /> + + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Leolyn Louise Everett</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleep, softly-breathing god! his downy wing</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Was fluttering now.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Samuel T. Coleridge</i>.</span><br /><br /> + + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I lay in slumber's shadowy vale</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Samuel T. Coleridge</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And more to lulle him in his slumber soft,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A trickling stream from high rock tumbling down</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And ever-drizzling raine upon the loft,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As still are wont t'annoy the walled towne,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Might there be heard; but carelesse Quiet lyes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wrapt in eternal! silence farre from enimyes.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Edmund Spenser</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The waters murmuring,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With such cohort as they keep</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Entice the dewy-feathered Sleep.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;"><i>Il Penseroso</i>.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>John Milton</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V.</h2> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ye spotted snakes with double tongue,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Newts and blind-worms do no wrong,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Come not near our fairy queen.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Philomel, with melody</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Sing in our sweet lullaby,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Never harm.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Nor spell nor charm,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come our lovely lady nigh</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">So goodnight with lullaby.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>William Shakespeare</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleep, Silence child, sweet father of soft rest,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Prince, whose approach peace to all mortals brings,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Indifferent host to shepherds and to kings,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sole comforter of minds with grief oppressed;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lo, by thy charming rod all breathing things</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lie slumbering, with forgetfulness possessed.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>William Drummond of Hawthornden</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Lock me in delight awhile;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Let some pleasing dreams beguile</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">All my fancies; that from thence</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">I may feel an influence,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All my powers of care bereaving!</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Though but a shadow, but a sliding</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Let me know some little joy!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">We that suffer long annoy</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Are contented with a thought</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Through an idle fancy wrought;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O let my joys have some abiding!</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>John Fletcher</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But still let Silence trew night-watches keepe,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That sacred Peace may in assurance rayne,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And tymely Sleep, when it is time to sleep,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">May pour his limbs forth on your pleasant playne;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The whiles an hundred little winged loves</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Like divers-fethered doves,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shall fly and flutter round about your bed.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Edmund Spenser</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">On this afflicted prince; fall like a cloud</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or painful to his slumbers,—easy, sweet</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And as a purling stream, thou son of Night,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Like hollow murmuring wind or silver rain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Into this prince gently, oh gently, slide</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And kiss him into slumbers like a bride.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>John Fletcher</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">God hath set</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Labor and rest, as day and night, to men</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Successive, and the timely dew of sleep</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Now falling with soft, slumberous weight inclines</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Our eyelids.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>John Milton</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast'</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Would I were sleep and peace so sweet to rest</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>William Shakespeare</i>.</span><br /> + + +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">The innocent sleep,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care, t</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Chief nourisher in life's feast.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>William Shakespeare</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come, Sleep. O, Sleep! The certain knot of peace,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The baiting place of wit, the balm of woe,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The indifferent judge between the high and low.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Sir Philip Sidney</i>.</span><br /> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Close thine eyes, and sleep secure;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thy soul is safe, thy body sure.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He that guards thee, he that keeps,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Never slumbers, never sleeps.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A quiet conscience in the breast</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Has only peace, has only rest.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The wisest and the mirth of kings</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Are out of tune unless she sings:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Then close thine eyes in peace and sleep secure,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No sleep so sweet as thine, no rest so sure.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Charles I, King of England</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Oh, Brahma, guard in sleep</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The merry lambs and the complacent kine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The flies below the leaves and the young mice</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In the tree roots, and all the sacred flocks</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of red flamingo; and my love Vijaya,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And may no restless fay, with fidget finger</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Trouble his sleeping; give him dreams of me.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>William B Yeats</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Solemnly, mournfully,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Dealing its dole,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The Curfew Bell</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Is beginning to toll.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Cover the embers,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And put out the light;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Toil comes with morning,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And rest with the night.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dark grow the windows,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And quenched is the fire;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sound fades into silence,—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">All footsteps retire.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">No voice in the chambers,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">No sound in the hall!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleep and oblivion</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Reign over all!</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lull me to sleep, ye winds, whose fitful sound</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Seems from some faint Aeolian harp-string caught;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Seal up the hundred wakeful eyes of thought</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As Hermes with his lyre in sleep profound</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The hundred wakeful eyes of Argus bound</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>XVII.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Our life is twofold: Sleep hath its own world,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A boundary between the things mis-named</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And a wide realm of wild reality.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And dreams in their development have breath,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">They take a weight from off our waking toils.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">They do divide our being; they become</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A portion of ourselves as of our time,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And look like heralds of eternity;—</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Lord Byron</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>XVIII.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O gentle Sleep! Do they belong to thee,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">These twinklings of oblivion? Thou dost love</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To sit in meekness, like the brooding Dove,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A captive never wishing to be free.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>William Wordsworth</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIX" id="XIX"></a>XIX.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O soft embalmer of the still midnight!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Our gloom-pleased eyes, embowered from the light,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Enshaded in forgetfulness divine;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O soothest Sleep! if so it pleases thee, close,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or wait the amen, ere thy poppy throws</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Around my bed its lulling charities;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Then save me, or the passed day will shine</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Save me from curious conscience, that still lords</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And seal the hushed casket of my soul.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>John Keats</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XX" id="XX"></a>XX.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleep, that giv'st what Life denies,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shadowy bounties and supreme,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Bring the dearest face that flies</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Following darkness like a dream!</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Andrew Lang</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXI" id="XXI"></a>XXI.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I have a lady as dear to me</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As the westward wind and shining sea,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As breath of spring to the verdant lea,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As lover's songs and young children's glee.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Swiftly I pace thro' the hours of light,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Finding no joy in the sunshine bright,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Waiting 'till moon and far stars are white,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Awaiting the hours of silent night.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Swiftly I fly from the day's alarms,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Too sudden desires, false joys and harms,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Swiftly I fly to my loved one's charms,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Praying the clasp of her perfect arms.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Her eyes are wonderful, dark and deep,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Her raven tresses a midnight steep,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But, ah, she is hard to hold and keep—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">My lovely lady, my lady Sleep!</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Leolyn Louise Everett</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXII" id="XXII"></a>XXII.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Visit her, gentle Sleep! With wings of healing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And may this storm be but a mountain-birth,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Silent as tho' they watched the sleeping Earth!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With light heart may she rise,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Gay fancy, cheerful eyes,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Joy lift her spirit, joy attune her voice.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Samuel T. Coleridge</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXIII" id="XXIII"></a>XXIII.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleep! king of gods and men!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come to my call again,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Swift over field and fen,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Mountain and deep:</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come, bid the waves be still;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleep, streams on height and hill;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Beasts, birds and snakes, thy will</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Conquereth, Sleep!</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come on thy golden wings,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come ere the swallow sings,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lulling all living things,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Fly they or creep!</span><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come with thy leaden wand,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come with thy kindly hand,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Soothing on sea or land</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Mortals that weep</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come from the cloudy west,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Soft over brain and breast,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Bidding the Dragon rest,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Come to me, Sleep!</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Andrew Lang</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXIV" id="XXIV"></a>XXIV.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleep, death without dying—living without life.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Edwin Arnold</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXV" id="XXV"></a>XXV.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">She sleeps; her breathings are not heard</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In palace-chambers far apart,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The fragrant tresses are not stirr'd</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">That he upon her charmed heart.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">She sleeps; on either hand upswells</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">She sleeps, nor dreams but ever dwells</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">A perfect form in perfect rest.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Alfred Tennyson</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXVI" id="XXVI"></a>XXVI.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The hours are passing slow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I hear their weary tread</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Clang from the tower and go</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Back to their kinsfolk dead.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleep! death's twin brother dread!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Why dost thou scorn me so?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The wind's voice overhead</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Long wakeful here I know,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And music from the steep</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Where waters fall and flow.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wilt thou not hear me, Sleep?</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All sounds that might bestow</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Rest on the fever'd bed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All slumb'rous sounds and low</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Are mingled here and wed,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And bring no drowsihed.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Shy dreams flit to and fro</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With shadowy hair dispread;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With wistful eyes that glow</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And silent robes that sweep.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Thou wilt not hear me; no?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wilt thou not hear me, Sleep?</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">What cause hast them to show</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of sacrifice unsped?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of all thy slaves below</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I most have labored</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With service sung and said;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Have cull'd such buds as blow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Soft poppies white and red,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Where thy still gardens grow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And Lethe's waters weep.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Why, then, art thou my foe?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wilt thou not hear me, Sleep?</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Prince, ere the dark be shred</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">By golden shafts, ere low</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And long the shadows creep:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Lord of the wand of lead,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Soft footed as the snow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wilt thou not hear me, Sleep!</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Andrew Lang</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXVII" id="XXVII"></a>XXVII.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I have loved wind and light,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And the bright sea,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But, holy and most secret Night,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Not as I love and have loved thee.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">God, like all highest things,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Hides light in shade,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And in the night his visitings</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">To sleep and dreams are clearliest made.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Arthur Symons</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXVIII" id="XXVIII"></a>XXVIII.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The peace of a wandering sky,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Silence, only the cry</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of the crickets, suddenly still,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A bee on the window sill,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A bird's wing, rushing and soft,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Three flails that tramp in the loft,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Summer murmuring</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Some sweet, slumberous thing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Half asleep:</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Arthur Symons</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXIX" id="XXIX"></a>XXIX.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Only a little holiday of sleep,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Soft sleep, sweet sleep; a little soothing psalm</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of slumber from thy sanctuaries of calm,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A little sleep—it matters not how deep;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A little falling feather from thy wing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Merciful Lord,—is it so great a thing?</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Richard Le Gallienne</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXX" id="XXX"></a>XXX.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">One after one; the sound of rain, and bees</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Smooth fields, white sheets of water and pure sky</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I have thought of all by turns and yet do lie</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleepless!</span><br /> + +<hr style='width: 15%;' /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come, blessed barrier between day and day.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>William Wordsworth</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXXI" id="XXXI"></a>XXXI.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleep is a reconciling,</span><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A rest that peace begets;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Does not the sun rise smiling</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">When fair at eve he sets'</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Anonymous</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXXII" id="XXXII"></a>XXXII.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The cloud-shadows of midnight possess their own</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">repose,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The weary winds are silent or the moon is in the</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">deep;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">knows;</span><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Whatever moves, or toils, or grieves, hath its</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">appointed sleep.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Percy Bysshe Shelley</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXXIII" id="XXXIII"></a>XXXIII.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">We lay</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Stretched upon fragrant heath and lulled by sound</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of far-off torrents charming the still night,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To tired limbs and over-busy thoughts</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Inviting sleep and soft forgetfulness.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>William Wordsworth</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXXIV" id="XXXIV"></a>XXXIV.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">There is sweet music here that softer falls</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Than petals from blown roses on the grass,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Or night-dews on still waters between walls</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Music that gentlier on the spirit lies</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Than tired eye-lids upon tired eyes;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Here are cool mosses deep,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And thro' the mass the ivies creep,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Alfred Tennyson</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXXV" id="XXXV"></a>XXXV.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I went into the deserts of dim sleep—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That world which, like an unknown wilderness,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Bounds this with its recesses wide and deep</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Percy Bysshe Shelley</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXXVI" id="XXXVI"></a>XXXVI.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Oh, Morpheus, my more than love, my life,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come back to me, come back to me! Hold out</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Your wonderful, wide arms and gather me</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Again against your breast. I lay above</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Your heart and felt its breathing firm and slow</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As waters that obey the moon and lo,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Rest infinite was mine and calm. My soul</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Is sick for want of you. Oh, Morpheus,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Heart of my weary heart, come back to me!</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Leolyn Louise Everett</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXXVII" id="XXXVII"></a>XXXVII.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Lips</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Parted in slumber, whence the regular breath</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of innocent dreams arose.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Percy Bysshe Shelley</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXXVIII" id="XXXVIII"></a>XXXVIII.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A late lark twitters in the quiet skies;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And from the west,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Where the sun, his day's work ended,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lingers in content,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">There falls on the old, gray city</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">An influence luminous and serene,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">A shining peace.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The smoke ascends</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shine, and are changed. In the valley</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Closing his benediction,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sinks, and the darkening air</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thrills with a sense of the triumphing night—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Night with her train of stars</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And her great gift of sleep.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>William Ernest Henley</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XXXIX" id="XXXIX"></a>XXXIX.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Oh, Sleep! it is a gentle thing</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Beloved from pole to pole!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To Mary Queen the praise be given!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That slid into my soul.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Samuel T. Coleridge</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XL" id="XL"></a>XL.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">What is more gentle than a wind in summer?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">What is more soothing than the pretty hummer</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That stays one moment in an open flower,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And buzzes cheerily from bower to bower?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">What is more tranquil than a musk rose blowing</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In a green island, far from all men's knowing?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">More healthful than the leanness of dales?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">More secret than a nest of nightingales?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">More serene than Cordelia's countenance?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">More full of visions than a high romance?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">What, but thee Sleep? Soft closer of our eyes!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Low murmurer of tender lullabies!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Light hoverer around our happy pillows!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wreather of poppy buds and weeping willows!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Silent entangler of a beauty's tresses!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Most happy listener! when the morning blesses</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Thee for enlivening all the cheerful eyes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That glance so brightly at the new sun-rise.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>John Keats</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XLI" id="XLI"></a>XLI.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">My sleep had been embroidered with dim dreams,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">My soul had been a lawn besprinkled o'er</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">With flowers, and stirring shades of baffled beams.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>John Keats</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XLII" id="XLII"></a>XLII.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sleep is a blessed thing. All my long life</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I have known this, its value infinite</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To man, its symbol of the perfect peace</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That marks eternity, its marvellous</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Relief from all the vanities and wounds,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The little battles and unrest of soul</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That we call life.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Sleep is a blessed thing,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Doubly it has been taught me. All the time</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I cannot have you, all the heart-sick days</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of utter yearning, of eternal ache</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of longing, longing for the sight of you,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Fade and dissolve at night and you are mine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">At least in dreams, at least in blessed dreams.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Leolyn Louise Everett</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XLIII" id="XLIII"></a>XLIII.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex'd she lay</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Blended alike from sunshine and from rain,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">As though a rose could shut and be a bud again.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>John Keats</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XLIV" id="XLIV"></a>XLIV.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O magic sleep! O comfortable bird,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'Till it is hush'd and smooth! O unconfin'd</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Restraint! imprisoned liberty! great key</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To golden palaces, strange ministrelsy,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Fountains grotesque, new trees, bespangled caves,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Echoing grottos, full of tumbling waves</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And moonlight, aye, to all the mazy world</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of silvery enchantment!—who, upfurl'd</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Beneath thy drowsy wing a triple hour</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But renovates and lives?</span><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>John Keats</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XLV" id="XLV"></a>XLV.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">A sleep</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Full of sweet dreams and health and quiet breathing.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>John Keats</i>.</span><br /> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XLVI" id="XLVI"></a>XLVI.</h2> + +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Now is the blackest hour of the long night,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The soul of midnight. Now, the pallid stars</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Shine in the highest silver and the wind</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That creepeth chill across the sleeping world</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Holdeth no hint of morning. I look out</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Into the glory of the night with tired,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wide, sleepless eyes and think of you. There is</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The hush of some great spirit o'er the earth.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Here, in the silence earth and sky are met</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And merged into infinity. Oh, God</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of all, Thou who beholdest Destiny</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">As simple, Thou who understandest life</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">From birth to re-birth, who knows all our souls,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Grant her Thy perfect benediction, rest.</span><br /><br /> + +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>Leolyn Louise Everett</i>.</span><br /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sleep-Book, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLEEP-BOOK *** + +***** This file should be named 16637-h.htm or 16637-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/6/3/16637/ + +Produced by Pat Saumell and Chuck Greif + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sleep-Book + Some of the Poetry of Slumber + +Author: Various + +Release Date: September 3, 2005 [EBook #16637] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLEEP-BOOK *** + + + + +Produced by Pat Saumell and Chuck Greif + + + + + + + + + +SLEEP-BOOK + +SOME OF THE POETRY OF SLUMBER + +COLLECTED BY + +LEOLYN LOUISE EVERETT + +NEW YORK + +THE WATKINS COMPANY + +1910 + +Three hundred and twenty copies of this book have been printed on +hand-made Van Gelder paper, for The Watkins Company, at the press of +Styles & Cash New York, and type distributed. + +This book is No. + +To + +ETHEL DU FRE HOUSTON + +who has brought the joy and beauty of dream into so many lives + + + + + SLEEP-BOOK + + + + + I. + + Peace, peace, thou over-anxious, foolish heart, + Rest, ever-seeking soul, calm, mad desires, + Quiet, wild dreams--this is the time of sleep. + Hold her more close than life itself. Forget + All the excitements of the day, forget + All problems and discomforts. Let the night + Take you unto herself, her blessed self. + Peace, peace, thou over-anxious, foolish heart, + Rest, ever-seeking soul, calm, mad desires, + Quiet, wild dreams--this is the time of sleep. + + _Leolyn Louise Everett_. + + + + + II. + + Sleep, softly-breathing god! his downy wing + Was fluttering now. + + _Samuel T. Coleridge_. + + + I lay in slumber's shadowy vale + + _Samuel T. Coleridge_. + + + + + III. + + And more to lulle him in his slumber soft, + A trickling stream from high rock tumbling down + And ever-drizzling raine upon the loft, + Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne + Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne. + No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes, + As still are wont t'annoy the walled towne, + Might there be heard; but carelesse Quiet lyes + Wrapt in eternal! silence farre from enimyes. + + _Edmund Spenser_. + + + + + IV. + + The waters murmuring, + With such cohort as they keep + Entice the dewy-feathered Sleep. + _Il Penseroso_. + + _John Milton_. + + + + + V. + Ye spotted snakes with double tongue, + Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen; + Newts and blind-worms do no wrong, + Come not near our fairy queen. + Philomel, with melody + Sing in our sweet lullaby, + Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby; + Never harm. + Nor spell nor charm, + Come our lovely lady nigh + So goodnight with lullaby. + + _William Shakespeare_. + + + + + VI. + + Sleep, Silence child, sweet father of soft rest, + Prince, whose approach peace to all mortals brings, + Indifferent host to shepherds and to kings, + Sole comforter of minds with grief oppressed; + Lo, by thy charming rod all breathing things + Lie slumbering, with forgetfulness possessed. + + _William Drummond of Hawthornden_. + + + + + VII. + + 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 annoy + Are contented with a thought + Through an idle fancy wrought; + O let my joys have some abiding! + + _John Fletcher_. + + + + + VIII. + + But still let Silence trew night-watches keepe, + That sacred Peace may in assurance rayne, + And tymely Sleep, when it is time to sleep, + May pour his limbs forth on your pleasant playne; + The whiles an hundred little winged loves + Like divers-fethered doves, + Shall fly and flutter round about your bed. + + _Edmund Spenser_. + + + + + IX. + + Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes, + Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose + On this afflicted prince; fall like a cloud + In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud + Or painful to his slumbers,--easy, sweet + And as a purling stream, thou son of Night, + Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain + Like hollow murmuring wind or silver rain, + Into this prince gently, oh gently, slide + And kiss him into slumbers like a bride. + + _John Fletcher_. + + + + + X. + + God hath set + Labor and rest, as day and night, to men + Successive, and the timely dew of sleep + Now falling with soft, slumberous weight inclines + Our eyelids. + + _John Milton_. + + + + + XI. + + Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast' + Would I were sleep and peace so sweet to rest + + _William Shakespeare_. + + + The innocent sleep, + Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care, t + The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, + Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course, + Chief nourisher in life's feast. + + _William Shakespeare_. + + + + + XII. + + Come, Sleep. O, Sleep! The certain knot of peace, + The baiting place of wit, the balm of woe, + The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, + The indifferent judge between the high and low. + + _Sir Philip Sidney_. + + + + + + XIII. + + Close thine eyes, and sleep secure; + Thy soul is safe, thy body sure. + He that guards thee, he that keeps, + Never slumbers, never sleeps. + A quiet conscience in the breast + Has only peace, has only rest. + The wisest and the mirth of kings + Are out of tune unless she sings: + Then close thine eyes in peace and sleep secure, + No sleep so sweet as thine, no rest so sure. + + _Charles I, King of England_. + + + + + XIV. + + Oh, Brahma, guard in sleep + The merry lambs and the complacent kine, + The flies below the leaves and the young mice + In the tree roots, and all the sacred flocks + Of red flamingo; and my love Vijaya, + And may no restless fay, with fidget finger + Trouble his sleeping; give him dreams of me. + + _William B Yeats_. + + + + + XV. + + Solemnly, mournfully, + Dealing its dole, + The Curfew Bell + Is beginning to toll. + + Cover the embers, + And put out the light; + Toil comes with morning, + And rest with the night. + + Dark grow the windows, + And quenched is the fire; + Sound fades into silence,-- + All footsteps retire. + + No voice in the chambers, + No sound in the hall! + Sleep and oblivion + Reign over all! + + _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_. + + + + + XVI. + + Lull me to sleep, ye winds, whose fitful sound + Seems from some faint Aeolian harp-string caught; + Seal up the hundred wakeful eyes of thought + As Hermes with his lyre in sleep profound + The hundred wakeful eyes of Argus bound + + _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_. + + + + + XVII. + + Our life is twofold: Sleep hath its own world, + A boundary between the things mis-named + Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world, + And a wide realm of wild reality. + And dreams in their development have breath, + And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; + They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, + They take a weight from off our waking toils. + They do divide our being; they become + A portion of ourselves as of our time, + And look like heralds of eternity;-- + + _Lord Byron_. + + + + + XVIII. + + O gentle Sleep! Do they belong to thee, + These twinklings of oblivion? Thou dost love + To sit in meekness, like the brooding Dove, + A captive never wishing to be free. + + _William Wordsworth_. + + + + + XIX. + + O soft embalmer of the still midnight! + Shutting, with careful fingers and benign, + Our gloom-pleased eyes, embowered from the light, + Enshaded in forgetfulness divine; + O soothest Sleep! if so it pleases thee, close, + In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes, + Or wait the amen, ere thy poppy throws + Around my bed its lulling charities; + Then save me, or the passed day will shine + Upon my pillow, breeding many woes; + Save me from curious conscience, that still lords + Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; + Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, + And seal the hushed casket of my soul. + + _John Keats_. + + + + + XX. + + Sleep, that giv'st what Life denies, + Shadowy bounties and supreme, + Bring the dearest face that flies + Following darkness like a dream! + + _Andrew Lang_. + + + + + XXI. + + I have a lady as dear to me + As the westward wind and shining sea, + As breath of spring to the verdant lea, + As lover's songs and young children's glee. + + Swiftly I pace thro' the hours of light, + Finding no joy in the sunshine bright, + Waiting 'till moon and far stars are white, + Awaiting the hours of silent night. + + Swiftly I fly from the day's alarms, + Too sudden desires, false joys and harms, + Swiftly I fly to my loved one's charms, + Praying the clasp of her perfect arms. + + Her eyes are wonderful, dark and deep, + Her raven tresses a midnight steep, + But, ah, she is hard to hold and keep-- + My lovely lady, my lady Sleep! + + _Leolyn Louise Everett_. + + + + + XXII. + + Visit her, gentle Sleep! With wings of healing, + And may this storm be but a mountain-birth, + May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling, + Silent as tho' they watched the sleeping Earth! + With light heart may she rise, + Gay fancy, cheerful eyes, + Joy lift her spirit, joy attune her voice. + + _Samuel T. Coleridge_. + + + + + XXIII. + + Sleep! king of gods and men! + Come to my call again, + Swift over field and fen, + Mountain and deep: + + Come, bid the waves be still; + Sleep, streams on height and hill; + Beasts, birds and snakes, thy will + Conquereth, Sleep! + + Come on thy golden wings, + Come ere the swallow sings, + Lulling all living things, + Fly they or creep! + + Come with thy leaden wand, + Come with thy kindly hand, + Soothing on sea or land + Mortals that weep + + Come from the cloudy west, + Soft over brain and breast, + Bidding the Dragon rest, + Come to me, Sleep! + + _Andrew Lang_. + + + + + XXIV. + + Sleep, death without dying--living without life. + + _Edwin Arnold_. + + + + + XXV. + + She sleeps; her breathings are not heard + In palace-chambers far apart, + The fragrant tresses are not stirr'd + That he upon her charmed heart. + + She sleeps; on either hand upswells + The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest; + She sleeps, nor dreams but ever dwells + A perfect form in perfect rest. + + _Alfred Tennyson_. + + + + + XXVI. + + 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 them to show + Of sacrifice unsped? + Of all thy slaves below + I most have labored + 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? + + 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! + + _Andrew Lang_. + + + + + XXVII. + + I have loved wind and light, + And the bright sea, + But, holy and most secret Night, + Not as I love and have loved thee. + + God, like all highest things, + Hides light in shade, + And in the night his visitings + To sleep and dreams are clearliest made. + + _Arthur Symons_. + + + + + XXVIII. + + The peace of a wandering sky, + Silence, only the cry + Of the crickets, suddenly still, + A bee on the window sill, + A bird's wing, rushing and soft, + Three flails that tramp in the loft, + Summer murmuring + Some sweet, slumberous thing, + Half asleep: + + _Arthur Symons_. + + + + + XXIX. + + Only a little holiday of sleep, + Soft sleep, sweet sleep; a little soothing psalm + Of slumber from thy sanctuaries of calm, + A little sleep--it matters not how deep; + A little falling feather from thy wing, + Merciful Lord,--is it so great a thing? + + _Richard Le Gallienne_. + + + + + XXX. + + A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by + One after one; the sound of rain, and bees + Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas, + Smooth fields, white sheets of water and pure sky + I have thought of all by turns and yet do lie + Sleepless! + + * * * * * + + Come, blessed barrier between day and day. + Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health! + + _William Wordsworth_. + + + + + XXXI. + + Sleep is a reconciling, + + A rest that peace begets; + Does not the sun rise smiling + When fair at eve he sets' + + _Anonymous_. + + + + + XXXII. + + The cloud-shadows of midnight possess their own + repose, + The weary winds are silent or the moon is in the + deep; + Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean + knows; + + Whatever moves, or toils, or grieves, hath its + appointed sleep. + + _Percy Bysshe Shelley_. + + + + + XXXIII. + + We lay + Stretched upon fragrant heath and lulled by sound + Of far-off torrents charming the still night, + To tired limbs and over-busy thoughts + Inviting sleep and soft forgetfulness. + + _William Wordsworth_. + + + + + XXXIV. + + There is sweet music here that softer falls + Than petals from blown roses on the grass, + Or night-dews on still waters between walls + Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass; + Music that gentlier on the spirit lies + Than tired eye-lids upon tired eyes; + Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies. + Here are cool mosses deep, + And thro' the mass the ivies creep, + And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep. + And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep. + + _Alfred Tennyson_. + + + + + XXXV. + + I went into the deserts of dim sleep-- + That world which, like an unknown wilderness, + Bounds this with its recesses wide and deep + + _Percy Bysshe Shelley_. + + + + + XXXVI. + + Oh, Morpheus, my more than love, my life, + Come back to me, come back to me! Hold out + Your wonderful, wide arms and gather me + Again against your breast. I lay above + Your heart and felt its breathing firm and slow + As waters that obey the moon and lo, + Rest infinite was mine and calm. My soul + Is sick for want of you. Oh, Morpheus, + Heart of my weary heart, come back to me! + + _Leolyn Louise Everett_. + + + + + XXXVII. + + Lips + Parted in slumber, whence the regular breath + Of innocent dreams arose. + + _Percy Bysshe Shelley_. + + + + + XXXVIII. + + A late lark twitters in the quiet skies; + And from the west, + Where the sun, his day's work ended, + Lingers in content, + There falls on the old, gray city + An influence luminous and serene, + A shining peace. + + The smoke ascends + In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires + Shine, and are changed. In the valley + Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun, + Closing his benediction, + Sinks, and the darkening air + Thrills with a sense of the triumphing night-- + Night with her train of stars + And her great gift of sleep. + + _William Ernest Henley_. + + + + + XXXIX. + + Oh, Sleep! it is a gentle thing + Beloved from pole to pole! + To Mary Queen the praise be given! + She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, + That slid into my soul. + + _Samuel T. Coleridge_. + + + + + XL. + + What is more gentle than a wind in summer? + What is more soothing than the pretty hummer + That stays one moment in an open flower, + And buzzes cheerily from bower to bower? + What is more tranquil than a musk rose blowing + In a green island, far from all men's knowing? + More healthful than the leanness of dales? + More secret than a nest of nightingales? + More serene than Cordelia's countenance? + More full of visions than a high romance? + What, but thee Sleep? Soft closer of our eyes! + Low murmurer of tender lullabies! + Light hoverer around our happy pillows! + Wreather of poppy buds and weeping willows! + Silent entangler of a beauty's tresses! + Most happy listener! when the morning blesses + Thee for enlivening all the cheerful eyes + That glance so brightly at the new sun-rise. + + _John Keats_. + + + + + XLI. + + My sleep had been embroidered with dim dreams, + My soul had been a lawn besprinkled o'er + With flowers, and stirring shades of baffled beams. + + _John Keats_. + + + + + XLII. + + Sleep is a blessed thing. All my long life + I have known this, its value infinite + To man, its symbol of the perfect peace + That marks eternity, its marvellous + Relief from all the vanities and wounds, + The little battles and unrest of soul + That we call life. + Sleep is a blessed thing, + Doubly it has been taught me. All the time + I cannot have you, all the heart-sick days + Of utter yearning, of eternal ache + Of longing, longing for the sight of you, + Fade and dissolve at night and you are mine, + At least in dreams, at least in blessed dreams. + + _Leolyn Louise Everett_. + + + + + XLIII. + + Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, + In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex'd she lay + Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd + Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away; + Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day, + Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain, + Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray; + Blended alike from sunshine and from rain, + As though a rose could shut and be a bud again. + + _John Keats_. + + + + + XLIV. + + O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, + That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind + 'Till it is hush'd and smooth! O unconfin'd + Restraint! imprisoned liberty! great key + To golden palaces, strange ministrelsy, + Fountains grotesque, new trees, bespangled caves, + Echoing grottos, full of tumbling waves + And moonlight, aye, to all the mazy world + Of silvery enchantment!--who, upfurl'd + Beneath thy drowsy wing a triple hour + But renovates and lives? + + _John Keats_. + + + + + XLV. + + A sleep + Full of sweet dreams and health and quiet breathing. + + _John Keats_. + + + + + XLVI. + + Now is the blackest hour of the long night, + The soul of midnight. Now, the pallid stars + Shine in the highest silver and the wind + That creepeth chill across the sleeping world + Holdeth no hint of morning. I look out + Into the glory of the night with tired, + Wide, sleepless eyes and think of you. There is + The hush of some great spirit o'er the earth. + Here, in the silence earth and sky are met + And merged into infinity. Oh, God + Of all, Thou who beholdest Destiny + As simple, Thou who understandest life + From birth to re-birth, who knows all our souls, + Grant her Thy perfect benediction, rest. + + _Leolyn Louise Everett_. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sleep-Book, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLEEP-BOOK *** + +***** This file should be named 16637.txt or 16637.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/6/3/16637/ + +Produced by Pat Saumell and Chuck Greif + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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