Sleep.

Orphaned, I cry to thee: Sweet Sleep! O kneel and be A mother unto me! Calm thou my childish fears; Fold—fold mine eyelids to, all tenderly, And dry my tears. Come, Sleep, all drowsy-eyed And faint with languor,—slide Thy dim face down beside Mine own, and let me rest And nestle in thy heart, and there abide, A favored guest. Good night to every care. And shadow of despair! Good night to all things where Within is no delight!— Sleep opens her dark arms, and, swooning there, I sob: Good night—good night!