Explore "L'Envoi" by Harry Graham on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Go, little book, and coyly creep / Beneath the pillows of the blest, / Whence those who seek in vain for sleep / Shall drag thee from thy nest; / That so thy sedative aroma / May lull them to a state of coma.
The infant child who lies awake, / Within its tiny trundle-bed, / No soothing potion needs to take, / If thou art duly read; / And hosts of harassed monthly nurses / Shall bless thy soporific verses.
The invalid who cannot rest / Has but at thy contents to glance / To hug thee to his fevered breast / And fall into a trance; / And sleepless patients without number / Shall hail thee harbinger of slumber.
Go then, fond offspring of the Muse, / Perform thy deadly work by night, / Thou rich man's boon, thou widow's cruse, / Thou orphan-child's delight! / Appease the heirs from all the ages / With balm from thine hypnotic pages!
So in the palace of the king, / The mansion of the millionaire, / Thy readers shall combine to sing / Thy praises ev'rywhere, / Till folks in less exalted places / Scream loudly for _Familiar Faces_!
(When, if their cries are shrill and healthy, / _I_ shall become extremely wealthy! )