“Sleep”

 

O Sleep, come up the hollows of the night― 
My temples throb for thy cool, restful touch; 
My breast yearns for thy coming over-much; 
Come up the purple spaces of Delight! 
 
Come like the slow, soft pressure of the sea 
Up tidelands ridged by her own lips at morn; 
Steal, like still winds among the ripening corn, 
Across the field Forgetfulness to me. 
 
Breathe like a lotus lulled upon a stream; 
Thrill like a heart-beat from the chastest love, 
Or innocent rapture of a mating dove; 
Oh, kiss my eyelids down, and let me dream! 

 

“Sleep” as it appears in Higginson’s Four-Leaf Clover (1901).