  At night, when all is hushed in still repose, When ‘Nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep,’ Doth o’er our wearied frame soft vigil keep, And with her gentle hand our eyelids close, Then doth the restless spirit take its flight, While soft Imagination lends her wings, And the chained watchdog Will no longer springs To bar its progress through the realms of Night. Reason, the watchful porter at the gate, Tired with the constant labours of the day, Retires to rest, and leaves it free to stray Into the land where Fancy keeps her state, And her attendant fays glad homage shew To mortal visitants from earth below. Catharine Davidson. Printed and Published by W. & R. Chambers, 47 Paternoster Row, London, and 339 High Street, Edinburgh. All Rights Reserved. |
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