SLEEP.

Orphaned, I cry to thee:

Sweet sleep! O kneel and be

A mother unto me!

Calm thou my childish fears:

Fold — fold mine eyelids to, all tenderly,

And dry my tears.

Come, Sleep, all drowsy-eyed

And faint with languor,— slide

Thy dim face down beside

Mine own, and let me rest

And nestle in thy heart, and there abide,

A favored guest.

Good night to every care,

And shadow of despair!

Good night to all things where

Within is no delight!—

Sleep opens her dark arms, and, swooning there,

I sob: Good night — good night!