< Littell's Living Age < Volume 134 < Issue 1731

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SLEEP.

Beautiful up from the deeps of the solemn sea,
⁠Cometh sweet Sleep to me;
⁠Up from the silent deeps,
⁠Where no one waits and weeps:
⁠Cometh, as one who clreameth,
⁠With slowly waving hands;
⁠And the sound of her raiment seemeth
⁠Like waves on the level sands.
⁠There is rest for all mankind,
⁠As her slow wings stir the wind;
⁠With lullaby the drowsy waters creep
⁠To kiss the "feet of Sleep.

Blackwood's Magazine.J. R. S.

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