That sister slept beneath a grassy tomb
Ere time had robbed her of her first sweet bloom.
O Sleep! thou bringest back our childhood’s heart,
Ere yet the dew exhale, the hope depart;
Thou callest up the lost ones, sorrow’d o’er
Till sorrow’s self hath lost her tearful power;
Thine is the fairy-land, where shadows dwell,
Evoked in dreams by some strange hidden spell.
But Day and Waking have their dreams, O Sleep,
When Hope and Memory their fond watches keep;