“Sleep”

O Sleep, sweet Sleep―lean downward unto me,
            And lay thy cool touch on my fevered cheek.
            Lay all thy fair length close to me, and speak
Thy language, soft and drowsy as the sea
That steals up tide-lands slow and lullingly.
            O Sleep, kind Sleep―lean down and press thy lips
            On my tired eyes; let thy cool finger-tips
Still my hot temple’s throb,―ay, let me be Cradled
within thy arms. . . . And bid me think
            Of clovered banks where long, still shadows creep;
            Of lotus blossoms lolling on a stream;
Of tinkling brooks where thirsty cattle drink;
            Of drowsy poppy-fields. . . . And bid me dream
            Of him I love, O Sleep, O gentle Sleep!

“Sleep” as it appears in Higginson’s When the Birds Go North Again (1898).



A draft of “Sleep,” courtesy of the Ella Higginson Papers, Center for Pacific Northwest Studies, Heritage Resources, Western Washington University, Bellingham Washington.