 | Songs of Doubt and Dream (Poems) |  |
230
VI.—To a Friend Who Slept Ill.
How hast thou angered into stern disdain
That mild compassionate god round whose bowed head
The clustering poppies droop their drowsy red,
Somnus, that walks the world from twilight's wane
All the long night till day be born again,
While after him, in shadowy legion, stream
The pale diaphanous floating forms of dream?
That mild compassionate god round whose bowed head
The clustering poppies droop their drowsy red,
Somnus, that walks the world from twilight's wane
All the long night till day be born again,
While after him, in shadowy legion, stream
The pale diaphanous floating forms of dream?
He kisses brows that ache from earthly care;
He soothes to peace the indignant souls of slaves;
O'er many an eye, grown tired with tears, he waves
Those rich-dyed languid flowers he loves to bear,
And yet for thee no tender spell doth spare,
O friend that liest awake and hearest night
Flow on past banks of time in stealthy might.
He soothes to peace the indignant souls of slaves;
O'er many an eye, grown tired with tears, he waves
Those rich-dyed languid flowers he loves to bear,
And yet for thee no tender spell doth spare,
O friend that liest awake and hearest night
Flow on past banks of time in stealthy might.
Ah, would that I, who am well-beloved of sleep,
Might make fond intercession, friend, for thee,
Each night when some shy Dream should visit me
Where the long labyrinths of slumber sweep!
Both the Dream's dim hands would I seize and keep,
Praying of her to speed, with lulling charms,
And wreathe about thy neck two rosy arms!
Might make fond intercession, friend, for thee,
Each night when some shy Dream should visit me
Where the long labyrinths of slumber sweep!
Both the Dream's dim hands would I seize and keep,
Praying of her to speed, with lulling charms,
And wreathe about thy neck two rosy arms!
| Songs of Doubt and Dream (Poems) | |