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PRAYER TO SLEEP.
As oft Aurora, crimsoning the sky,Hath pour'd o'er my hot brow and fever'd eyeAll the chill freshness of her morning air,Touch'd by my sad and sleep-imploring prayer;Yet slumber comes not! How shall I sustainThis ceaseless weight of unreposing pain?———Perhaps even now some lover, deeply blest,Is folding the Beloved one to his breast,And strives Love's vigil through the night to keep,Shunning thy soft advances, gentle Sleep.Oh, come from him, who loves thee not, to me!———I dare not, Mighty Power, demand of theeOn full-spread pinions hovering o'er my bedO'er these sad eyes thy choicest balm to shed:Others, more fortunate, may pray for this—I only crave the faintest touch of blissFrom thy suspended wand.———Pass lightly o'er,But come, oh come, sweet Sleep!—I ask no more.
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