PAUSE.

So sick of dreams! the dreams, that stain

The aisle, along which life must pass,

With hues of mystic colored glass,

That fills the windows of the brain.

So sick of thoughts! the thoughts, that carve

The house of days with arabesques

And gargoyles, where the mind grotesques

In masks of hope and faith who starve.

Here lay thy over weary head

Upon my bosom! Do not weep!—

“He giveth His beloved sleep.” —

Heart of my heart, be comforted.