  WHEN I see the ghost of night Stealing through my window-pane, Silken sleep and silver light Struggle for my soul in vain; Silken sleep all balmily Breathes upon my lids oppressed, Till I sudden start to see Ghostly fingers on my breast. White and skyey visitant, Bringing beauty such as stings All my inner soul to pant After undiscovered things, Spare me this consummate pain! Silken weavings intercreep Round my senses once again, I am mortal—let me sleep. |
|
