The Promise of Sleep.
All day I could not work for woe,1
I could not work nor rest ;2
The trouble drove me to and fro,3
Like a leaf on the storm’s breast.4
Night came, and saw my sorrow cease :5
Sleep to the chamber stole ;6
Peace crept about my limbs, and peace7
Fell on my stormy soul.8
And now I think of only this—9
How I again may woo10
The gentle Sleep, who promises11
That Death is gentle too.12
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