  Hide me, O twilight air, Hide me from thought, from care, From all things foul or fair, Until to-morrow! To-night I strive no more; No more my soul shall soar: Come, sleep, and shut the door 'Gainst pain and sorrow! If I must see through dreams, Be mine Elysian gleams, Be mine by morning streams To watch and wander; So may my spirit cast (Serpent-like) off the past, And my free soul at last Have leave to ponder. And shouldst thou 'scape control, Ponder on love, sweet soul; On joy, the end and goal Of all endeavour: But if earth's pains will rise, (As damps will seek the skies,) Then, night, seal thou mine eyes, In sleep for ever. |
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