Somnus, the humble god that dwells In cottages and smoky cells, Hates gilded roofs and beds of down; And, though he fears no prince's frown, Flies from the circle of a crown. Come, I say, thou powerful god, And thy leaden charming rod, Dipped in the Lethean lake, O'er his wakeful temples shake, Lest he should sleep and never wake. Nature, alas, why art thou so Obliged to thy greatest foe? Sleep, that is thy best repast, Yet of death it bears the taste, And both are the same thing at last. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LA PALOMA IN LONDON by CLAUDE MCKAY PORTRAIT OF A BOY by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET ALIENS (TO YOU - EVERYWHERE! DEDICATED) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SOUVENIR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON WHERE? by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DOW BRITT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |