  Sleep, with her tender balm, her touch so kind, Has passed me by; Afar I see her vesture, velvet-lined, Float silently; O! Sleep, my tired eyes had need of thee! Is thy sweet kiss not meant to-night for me? Peace, with the blessings that I longed for so, Has passed me by; Where ere she folds her holy wings I know All tempests die; O! Peace, my tired soul had need of thee! Is thy sweet kiss denied alone to me? Love, with her heated touches, passion-stirred, Has passed me by. I called, “O stay thy flight,” but all unheard My lonely cry: O! Love, my tired heart had need of thee! Is thy sweet kiss withheld alone from me? Sleep, sister-twin of Peace, my waking eyes So weary grow! O! Love, thou wanderer from Paradise, Dost thou not know How oft my lonely heart has cried to thee? But Thou, and Sleep, and Peace, come not to me. |
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