Life’s ocean wild to guide thee o’er,
And waft thee to its golden shore.
[Written in youth one July in a hay-field, on a piece of paper that had contained my dinner, with an axle-grease box for my table, while lazily reclining under the wagon in the shade of the willows.]
SHUT YOUR EYES AND GO TO SLEEP.
A KYRIELLE.
Dear, your heart is tired to-night,
And the waning watches creep;
All too soon the morn will come,—
Shut your eyes and go to sleep.
While the stars in heaven dream