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O soft
embalmer of the still midnight!
Shutting, with
careful fingers and benign,
Our gloom-pleased eyes,
embowered from the light,
Enshaded in forgetfulness
divine;
O soothest Sleep! if so it please 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.
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