SLEEP that like the couched dove Broods o'er the weary eye, Dreams that with soft heavings move The heart of memory, Labor's guerdon, golden rest, Wrap thee in its downy vest, -- Fall like comfort on thy brain And sing the hush song to thy pain! Far from thee be startling fears, And dreams the guilty dream; No banshee scare thy drowsy ears With her ill-omen'd scream; But tones of fairy minstrelsy Float like the ghosts of sound o'er thee, Soft as the chapel's distant bell, And lull thee to a sweet farewell. Ye for whom the ashy hearth The fearful housewife clears, Ye whose tiny sounds of mirth The nighted carman hears, Ye whose pygmy hammers make The wonderers of the cottage wake, Noiseless be your airy flight, Silent as the still moonlight. Silent go, and harmless come, Fairies of the stream: Ye, who love the winter gloom Or the gay moonbeam, Hither bring your drowsy store Gather'd from the bright lusmore; Shake o'er temples, soft and deep, The comfort of the poor man, sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VISION OF BELSHAZZAR by GEORGE GORDON BYRON IN SICKNESS (1714) by JONATHAN SWIFT O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! by WALT WHITMAN DIRGE FOR THE LATE JAMES CURRIE, M.D., OF LIVERPOOL by LUCY AIKEN SIDNEY'S ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: CANTO TERTIO. KISSES by THOMAS CAMPION PERSUASIONS TO JOY: A SONG by THOMAS CAREW |