Explore "Sleep" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Lull me to sleep, ye winds, whose fitful sound / Seems from some faint Aeolian harp-string caught; / Seal up the hundred wakeful eyes of thought / As Hermes with his lyre in sleep profound / The hundred wakeful eyes of Argus bound; / For I am weary, and am overwrought / With too much toil, with too much care distraught, / And with the iron crown of anguish crowned. / Lay thy soft hand upon my brow and cheek, / O peaceful Sleep! until from pain released / I breathe again uninterrupted breath! / Ah, with what subtile meaning did the Greek / Call thee the lesser mystery at the feast / Whereof the greater mystery is death!