Explore "An Address to Night" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ Like some sad spirit from an unknown shore / Thou comest with two children in thine arms: / Flushed, poppied Sleep, whom mortals aye adore, / Her flowing raiment sculptured to her charms. / Soft on thy bosom in pure baby rest / Clasped as a fair white rose in musky nest; / But on thy other, like a thought of woe, / Her brother, lean, cold Death doth thin recline, / To thee as dear as she, thy maid divine, / Whose frowsy hair his hectic breathings blow / In poppied ringlets billowing all her marble brow.
/ Oft have I taken Sleep from thy vague arms / And fondled her faint head, with poppies wreath'd, / Within my bosom's depths, until its storms / With her were hushed and I but mildly breath'd. / And then this child, O Night! with frolic art / Arose from rest, and on my panting heart / Blew bubbles of dreams where elfin worlds were lost, / Until my airy soul smiled light on me / From some far land too dim for day to see, / And wandered in a shape of limpid frost / Within a dusky dale where soundless streams did flee.