THE DIRGE OF BEATRICE. FALSE friend, wilt thou smile or weep Little cares for a smile or a tear, What is this whispers low? There is a snake in thy smile, my dear; And bitter poison within thy tear. Sweet sleep, were death like to thee, Listen to the passing bell! SLEEP AND DEATH. They. WE strew these opiate flowers They were stript from Orient bowers, Be thy sleep Calm and deep, Like their's who fell-not ours who weep! She. Away, unlovely dreams! Away, false shapes of sleep! Clear, and bright, and deep! Sweet as a summer night without a breath. They. Sleep, sleep! our song is laden She. It was sung by a Samian maiden, That calm sleep Whence none may wake, where none shall weep. I touch thy temples pale! I breathe my soul on thee! Dead, and I would live to weep, So thou might'st win one hour of quiet sleep. Hellas. POET of Nature, thou hast wept to know Childhood and youth, friendship and love's first glow, One loss is mine Which thou too feel'st, yet I alone deplore. 40 SLEEP AND DEATH. They. WE strew these opiate flowers She. They were stript from Orient bowers, Be thy sleep Calm and deep, Like their's who fell-not ours who weep! Away, unlovely dreams! Away, false shapes of sleep! Be his, as Heaven seems, Clear, and bright, and deep! Soft as love, and calm as death, Sweet as a summer night without a breath. They. Sleep, sleep! our song is laden She. That calm sleep Whence none may wake, where none shall weep. I touch thy temples pale! I breathe my soul on thee! Dead, and I would live to weep, So thou might'st win one hour of quiet sleep. Hellas. Songs Consecrate to Liberty." TO WORDSWORTH. POET of Nature, thou hast wept to know Childhood and youth, friendship and love's first glow, One loss is mine Which thou too feel'st, yet I alone deplore. |