“ My sleep had been embroidered with dim dreams,
My soul had been a lawn besprinkled o'er
With flowers, and stirring shades of baffled beams.
John Keats.
XLII.
Sleep is a blessed thing. All my long life
I have known this, its value infinite
To man, its symbol of the perfect peace
That marks eternity, its marvellous
Relief from all the vanities and wounds,
The little battles and unrest of soul
That we call life.
Sleep is a blessed thing,
Doubly it has been taught me. ”

“ I may feel an influence,
All my powers of care bereaving!
Though but a shadow, but a sliding
Let me know some little joy!
We that suffer long annoy
Are contented with a thought
Through an idle fancy wrought;
O let my joys have some abiding!
John Fletcher.
VIII.
But still let Silence trew night-watches keepe,
That sacred Peace may in assurance rayne,
And tymely Sleep, when it is time to sleep,
May pour his limbs forth on your pleasant playne;
The whiles an hundred little winged loves
Like divers-fethered doves,
Shall fly and flutter round about your bed. ”

“ O soothest Sleep! if so it pleases thee, close,
In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes,
Or wait the amen, ere thy poppy throws
Around my bed its lulling charities;
Then save me, or the passed day will shine
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;
Save me from curious conscience, that still lords
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;
Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,
And seal the hushed casket of my soul.
John Keats.
XX.
Sleep, that giv'st what Life denies,
Shadowy bounties and supreme,
Bring the dearest face that flies
Following darkness like a dream! ”