Lured down from the shadowy skies;
Lured down from her drowsy dominions,
To nest in his tired-out eyes.
XV
And in sleep he cried out to her,—stilling
A moment the rush of her song,
The rainbowing torrent of song,—
"Cease! cease! for the rapture is killing!
The glory of light is too strong!—
Oh, cease! make an end of thy song!"—