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James Whitcomb Riley - Sleep
Work rating: Low

Orphaned, I cry to thee:
  Sweet sleep!  O kneel and be
  A mother unto me!
    Calm thou my childish fears:
  Fold--fold mine eyelids to, all tenderly,
        And dry my tears.

  Come, Sleep, all drowsy-eyed
  And faint with languor,--slide
  Thy dim face down beside
    Mine own, and let me rest
  And nestle in thy heart, and there abide,
        A favored guest.

  Good night to every care,
  And shadow of despair!
  Good night to all things where
    Within is no delight!--
  Sleep opens her dark arms, and, swooning there,
        I sob: Good night--good night!
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