Thou that bringest sleep,
Still and deep,
Come and lay my head
In thy charmed bed.
What if it be low,
With coverlid of snow:
I shall never know.
Thou that bringest strife--
Bitter life!
Cease to vex mine eyes
With thy vanities.
Long of thee I bore
Task that burdened sore;
Ask of me no more.
Yet at thy right hand
One doth stand
Who will weep to see
My tranquility.
Love: O Love! this pain
Rends my heart in twain,
Turns my prayer again.
One for whom I pray,
All the way,
Waits with Death, I know;
Yet I cannot go.
One is here so sweet;
O 'twere heaven complete
If Love and Rest could meet!
