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Amy Levy - The Promise of Sleep
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Put the sweet thoughts from out thy mind,
    The dreams from out thy breast;
No joy for thee—but thou shalt find
            Thy rest


All day I could not work for woe,
    I could not work nor rest;
The trouble drove me to and fro,
    Like a leaf on the storm`s breast.

Night came and saw my sorrow cease;
    Sleep in the chamber stole;
Peace crept about my limbs, and peace
    Fell on my stormy soul.

And now I think of only this,—
    How I again may woo
The gentle sleep— who promises
    That death is gentle too.
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