Come slumber, quiet herald of my dreams,
And wrap me in your soft and luscious arms;
Sweep me away upon the silent streams
Of fantasy, allure me with your charms.
Night is the time when imagination wheels
With joy and happy freedom, when it flies
To any place that fantasy reveals,
To any place that love and joy surmise.
So slumber, come, oh come, for there is one
Whom I would see and dearly wish to hold!
Yet I cannot; it seems she won’t be won
By anything that hands or thoughts can mould.
So slumber, come and let me taste your bliss,
If not in life, then dreaming of her kiss.
No comments:
Post a Comment