 | Poems and Songs by E. H. B. [i.e. E. H. Bickersteth] |  |
27
ON SLEEP.
“Sleep hath its own world,
And a wide realm of wild reality,
And dreams in their developement have breath,
And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy.”—
Byron.
And a wide realm of wild reality,
And dreams in their developement have breath,
And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy.”—
Byron.
I
Shall I meet thee, gentle shade,When from earth I fade away?
Weary on my pillow laid,
Dost thou hear the poet's lay?
II
Haunting thoughts and white-robed dreamsGuide me with prophetic pow'r—
Through my lattice morning streams,
Vanished is the Ideal hour.
III
Does the soul 'neath night's dark shroudRoam amid the starry skies,
Riding on a drifting cloud,
Panting after Paradise?
28
IV
Does it seek communion sweetWith the purer world above,
Where the angel spirits meet
In Elysian bow'rs of love?
V
Or does earth still hold a part,Claim one soft regret or tear;
Love keep ward above the heart,
Yet find no bright Eden here?
VI
Ah! in sleep how oft our wingDroops before some idol's shrine;
Like the moth, we flutter—cling—
Our worship—altar—not divine.
VII
Oft we start from darker dreamsWith a shriek of fell despair—
There a lurid blackness gleams,
And the night-wind's groan is there.
VIII
Death appals our sick'ning sightAs he flits across the scene,
While a pale sepulchral light
Dimly marks where he has been.
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IX
There! oh! there do moans of woe,There do fears and horrors rise;
Dark as Acheron below
Are those visions to our eyes.
X
Shade beloved, I turn to thee,Thine the sigh and thine the tear;
Earth has only dreams for me—
Cease they in the silent bier?
| Poems and Songs by E. H. B. [i.e. E. H. Bickersteth] | |