Sonnet To Sleep
O soft embalmer of the still midnight
Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,
Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light, Enshaded in forgetfulness divine;
O soothest Sleep
O soft embalmer of the still midnight
Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,
Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light, Enshaded in forgetfulness divine;
O soothest Sleep
1
Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream,
And scenes of bliss pass as a phantom by
The transient pleasures as a vision seem,
Ere on my bed my limbs I lay,
It hath not been my use to
With moving lips or bended knees;
But silently, by slow degrees,
Happy in sleep, waking content to languish,
Embracing clouds by night; in daytime, mourn;
All things I loath save her and mine own anguish,
Pleas'd in my hurt inured to live forlorn
Even when we sleep we watch over each
And this love heavier than a lake’s ripe
Without laughter or tears lasts
One day after another one night after us
LV Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night, Brother to Death, in silent darkness born: Relieve my languish, and restore the light, With dark forgetting of my cares, return; And let the day be time enough to mourn The shipwreck of my ill-adventu...
I sleep a lot and read St
Thomas
Or The Death of God (that's a Protestant book)
To the right the bay as if molten tin,
In the sky there is nobody asleep
Nobody, nobody
Nobody is asleep
The creatures of the moon sniff and prowl about their cabins
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
Every night Thou freest our spirits from the
And its snare, making them pure as rased tablets
Every night spirits are released from this cage,
And set free, neither lording it nor lorded over