FOND words have oft been spoken to thee, Sleep! And thou hast had thy store of tenderest names; The very sweetest, Fancy culls or frames, When thankfulness of heart is strong and deep! Dear Bosom-child we call thee, that dost steep In rich reward all suffering; Balm that tames All anguish; Saint that evil thoughts and aims Takest away, and into souls dost creep, Like to a breeze from heaven. Shall I alone, I surely not a man ungently made, Call thee worst Tyrant by which Flesh is crost? Perverse, self-willed to own and to disown, Mere slave of them who never for thee prayed, Still last to come where thou art wanted most! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHELL TO THE PEARL by LOUIS UNTERMEYER CONCORD HYMN; SUNG AT COMPLETION OF CONCORD MONUMENT, 1836 by RALPH WALDO EMERSON NEGRO by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES MAHMOUD by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT SHADOWS by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. JUNGLE by WILLIMINA L. ARMSTRONG TO THE SKYLARK by BERNARD BARTON VERSES, SUGGESTED BY THE FUNERAL OF AN EPITAPH IN BURY CHURCH-YARD by BERNARD BARTON |