OH, Sleep! kind god, approach thy gentle wand,
And strew thy poppies round my aching head,
Lay on my lids thy soft, all-conq'ring hand,
And pour thy brightest visions round my head.

'Tis thou alone canst hush in sweetest peace,
Lull the loud sigh, and stay the starting tear,
In calmness bid each stormy passion cease,
Close the sad lid, and still the anxious fear.

Then come, kind god, and chase my cares away,
Sooth the poor flutterer of my beating breast,
With haggard Misery one moment stay,
Nor fly, thus scornful, from a wretch distrest.