To Somnus

O, thou, the leaden-eyed! with drooping lid
Hanging upon thy sight, and eye half-hid
By matted hair: that, with a constant train
Of empty dreams, all shadowless and vain
As the dim wind, dost sleep in thy dark cave
With poppies at the mouth,which night-winds wave,
Sending their breathings downward — on thy bed,
Thine only throne, with darkness overspread,
And curtains black as are the eyes of night:
Thou, who dost come at time of waning light
And sleep among the woods, where night doth hide
And tremble at the sun, and shadows glide
Among the waving tree-tops; if now there
Thou sleepest in a current of cool air,
Within some nook, amid thick flowers and moss,
Gray-colour'd as thine eyes, while thy dreams toss
Their fantasies about the silent earth,
In waywardness of mirth —
O, come! and hear the hymn that we are chanting
Amid the star-light through the thick leaves slanting.
Thou lover of the banks of idle streams
O'ershaded by broad oaks, with scatter'd gleams
From the few stars upon them; of the shore
Of the broad sea, with silence hovering o'er;
The great moon hanging out her lamps to gild
The murmuring waves with hues all pure and mild,
Where thou dost lie upon the sounding sands,
While winds come dancing on from southern lands
With dreams upon their backs, and unseen waves
Of odours in their hands: thou, in the caves
Of the star-lighted clouds, on summer eves
Reclining lazily, while Silence leaves
Her influence about thee: in the sea
That liest, hearing the monotony
Of waves far-off above thee, like the wings
Of passing dreams, while the great ocean swings
His bulk above thy sand-supported head —
(As chain' d upon his bed
Some giant, with an idleness of motion
So swings the still and sleep-enthrall'd ocean.)
Thou who dost bless the weary with thy touch,
And makest Agony relax his clutch
Upon the bleeding fibres of the heart;
Pale Disappointment lose her constant smart,
And Sorrow dry her tears, and cease to weep
Her life away, and gain new cheer in sleep:
Thou who dost bless the birds, in every place
Where they have sung their songs with wondrous grace
Throughout the day, and now, with drooping wing,
Amid the leaves receive thy welcoming: —
Come with thy crowd of dreams, O, thou! to whom
All noise is most abhorr'd, and in this gloom,
Beneath the shaded brightness of the sky,
Where are no sounds but as the winds go by, —
Here touch our eyes, great Somntts! with thy wand;
Ah! here thou art, with touch most mild and bland,
And we forget our hymn, and sink away;
And here, until broad day
Come up into the sky, with fire-steeds leaping,
Will we recline, beneath the vine-leaves sleeping.