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Stephen Vincent Benet - In A Glass Of Water before Retiring
Work rating: Low

Now the day
Burns away.
Most austere
Night is here
Time for sleep.

And, to sleep,
If you please,
For release
Into peace,
Think of these.

Snails that creep,
Silver-slow;
Streams that flow,
Murmuring,
Murmuring;
Bells that chime,
Sweet clear c-o-o-1;
Of a pool
Hushed so still
Stars drowse there,
Sleepy-fair;
Of a hill
Drenched with night,
Drowned with moon`s
Lovely light;
Of soft tunes,
Played so slow,
Kind and low,
You sink down,
Into down,
Into rest,
Into the perfect whiteness,
The drowsy, drowsy lightness,
The warm, clean, sleepy feathers of a
       slumbering bird`s white breast.
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