On this my pensive pillow, gentle Sleep! <br />Descend, in all thy downy plumage drest: <br />Wipe with thy wing these eyes that wake to weep, <br />And place thy crown of poppies on my breast. <br /> <br />O steep my senses in oblivion's balm, <br />And sooth my throbbing pulse with lenient hand; <br />This tempest of my boiling blood becalm! <br />Despair grows mild at thy supreme command. <br /> <br />Yet ah! in vain, familiar with the gloom, <br />And sadly toiling through the tedious night, <br />I seek sweet slumber, while that virgin bloom, <br />For ever hovering, haunts my wretched sight. <br /> <br />Nor would the dawning day my sorrows charm: <br />Black midnight and the blaze of noon alike <br />To me appear, while with uplifted arm <br />Death stands prepar'd, but still delays, to strike.<br /><br />Thomas Warton Jr.<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ode-to-sleep-2/
