Peaceful and fair is the smiling repose That the breast-cradled slumber of infancy knows; Sound is the rest of the weary and worn, Whose feet have been galled with the dust and the thorn; Sweet is the sleep on the eyelids of youth When they dream of the world as all pleasure and truth! Yet child, pilgrim, and youth, snall awaken again To the journeys of toil and the trials of pain. But, oh! there's a fast and a visionless sleep, The calm and the stirless, the long and the deep: 'Tis the sleep that is soundest and sweetest of all, When our couch is the bier and our night robe the pall. No voice of the foe or the friend shall impart The proud flush to the cheek or warm throb to the heart: The lips of the dearest may seek for the breath, But their kiss cannot rouse the cold stillness of death. 'Tis a long, 'tis a last, 'tis a beautiful rest, When all sorrow has passed from the brow and the breast, And the lone spirit truly and wisely may crave The sleep that is dreamless -- the sleep of the grave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LISBON PACKET by GEORGE GORDON BYRON KIT CARSON'S RIDE by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER WHEN HELEN LIVED by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS by JAMES BEATTIE JOSEPH'S REFORM (A TALE OF THE HOT DOG TAVERN) by BERTON BRALEY |