Appeal to Sleep

Soon to waken, may my Rose
Early sink in soft repose!
Mine, ah! mine she must not be,
But, O gentle Sleep, to thee
One as dear do I resign
As if Heaven had made her mine.
Gentle Sleep! G let her rest
Upon thy more quiet breast!
When pale Morn returns again,
She returns to gloom and pain,
For how many friends will say,
As their pride is torn away,
" Sweetest Rose! adieu! adieu! "
I may bear to say it too,
But afar from her and you.