  Sleep, sleep, curtained round By dim-coloured tapestries, Wrought of dreams, nor let the sound Stir thee of my melodies. May sleep come to thee as slow And as soft as falling snow! Stars set in their spheres Presage for thee all delight; Sleep fall soft as tears Of the stars the dews of night; All fair things about thee keep, Music that doth mix with sleep. Dreams come, shining things, Through the curtains of thy bed; Doves fly with soft wings Round thy golden, drowsy head: Sleep, dream, dreaming smile, Curtained from the world awhile. |
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