Or the mariner loves the ocean.
THE BORDERLAND OF SLEEP
On the margin of the mystic shores of rest,
Where imagination mollifies the breast,
Where the fondest dreams their pleasant vigils keep,
In the vestibule of slumber, soft and deep,
Lies a neutral zone, salubrious and sweet,—
Where the realms of lethargy and action meet,—
'Tis the borderland of sleep.
Here the halcyon delights float by and fade,