SWEET Sleep, with mellow palms trailed listlessly Above mine eyelids, folding out the light Of coming day, and shutting in the night That gave but now such wondrous dreams to me -- Bide with me yet with thy dear sorcery, Until once more I grow forgetful quite Of all the cares that blur my waking sight With dim, regretful tears! I beg of thee To lift again thy wand with magic filled, And filter through my faith the words: Behold, Aladdin, as thou badest me, I build A new dream o'er the ruins of the old -- Thine all eternal palace, silver-silled, And walled with harps, and roofed with crowns of gold! |