Ode to Sleep
In vain I court till dawning light,
The coy divinity of night;
Restless, from side to side I turn,
Arise, ye musings of the morn!
Oh, sleep! though banish'd from those eyes
In vision's fair to Delia rise;
And o'er a dearer form diffuse
Thy healing balm, thy lenient dews.
Bless'd be her night as infant's rest,
Lull'd on the fond maternal breast,
Who, sweetly-playful smiles in sleep,
Nor knows that he is born to weep.
Remove the terrors of the night,
The phantom forms of wild affright,
The shrieks from precipice or flood,
And starting scene that swims with blood.
Lead her aloft to blooming bowers,
And beds of amaranthine flowers,
And golden skies, and glittering streams,
That paint the paradise of dreams.
Venus! present a lover near,
And gently whisper in her ear
His woes, who, lonely and forlorn,
Counts the slow clock from night till morn.
Ah! let no portion of my pain,
Save just a tender trace, remain;
Asleep consenting to be kind,
And wake with Daphnis in her mind.
John Logan's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Ode to Sleep by John Logan )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(01 January 1950)
Harivansh Rai Bachchan
(27 November 1907 – 18 January 2003)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(October 27, 1932 – February 11, 1963)
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