LET the world roll blindly on! Give me shadow, give me sun, And a perfumed eve as this is: Let me lie, Dreamfully, When the last quick sunbeams shiver Spears of light athwart the river, And a breeze, which seems the sigh Of a fairy floating by, Coyly kisses Tender leaf and feathered grasses; Yet so soft its breathing passes, These tall ferns, just glimmering o'er me, Blending goldenly before me, Hardly quiver! I have done with worldly scheming, Mocking show and hollow seeming! Let me lie Idly here, Lapped in lulling waves of air, Facing full the shadowy sky. Fame! -- the very sound is dreary, -- Shut, O soul! thine eyelids weary, For all nature's voices say, "'Tis the close -- the close of day, Thought and grief have had their sway:" Now Sleep bares her balmy breast, -- Whispering low (Low as moon-set tides that flow Up still beaches far away; While, from out the lucid West, Flutelike winds of murmurous breath Sink to tender-panting death), "On my bosom take thy rest; (Care and grief have had their day!) 'Tis the hour for dreaming, Fragrant rest, elysian dreaming!" |