O! what sweet death is Sleep that softly comes
To stand in cloying darkness 'side the bed,
When th' heart's slow beating sounds of distant drums
And drooping lids shroud eyes in drowsy head.
The meager ghostly light of moon and stars
That casts not shapes but shadows by the door-
It darkens shelves and chair and desk and drawers
That clear at noontime were but are no more.
Enchanted lashes fall across the gleams
The shadowed room fades black and falls away
As reason'd mind gives way to thoughtless dream
And beck'ning peace submerges soft dismay.
If Sleep apes endless slumber, 'tis not known;
Our lives are not as days, new-dawned, once flown.
March 26, 2003
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