O Sleep, thou kindest minister to man, Silent distiller of the balm of rest, How wonderful thy power, when naught else can, To soothe the torn and sorrow-laden breast! When bleeding hearts no comforter can find, When burdened souls droop under weight of woe, When thought is torture to the troubled mind, When grief-relieving tears refuse to flow; 'Tis then thou comest on soft-beating wings, And sweet oblivion's peace from them is shed; But ah, the old pain that the waking brings! That lives again so soon as thou art fled! Man, why should thought of death cause thee to weep; Since death be but an endless, dreamless sleep? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE WHEEL OF BEING II by HAYDEN CARRUTH LOVE BEING ALL ONE by ROBERT FROST WHEN THE SPEED COMES by ROBERT FROST MATER AMABILIS by EMMA LAZARUS SURFACES AND MASKS; 2 by CLARENCE MAJOR CHARLOTTE CORDAY (REVOLUTIONARY TRIBUNAL, JULY 17, 1793) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |