Charms, that call down the moon from out her sphere, On this sick youth work your enchantments here: Bind up his senses with your numbers, so, As to entrance his paine, or cure his woe. Fall gently, gently, and a while him keep Lost in the civill Wildernesse of sleep: That done, then let him, dispossest of paine, Like to a slumbring Bride, awake againe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SONG OF THE INGENUES by PAUL VERLAINE CASABIANCA by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS AT THE CANNON'S MOUTH by HERMAN MELVILLE THE PIAZZA OF ST. MARK AT MIDNIGHT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH RAIN ON FALL NIGHTS by MILDRED TELFORD BARNWELL |