Classic Poem

The thought of such sweet company forsaking
Is odious, — would that I could stay the sun!
Put back the clock, dream on without awaking,
Nor rise to meet a sad new day begun!
But days will pass, — they do not last for ever,
And then there comes again the sweet warm night,
A gentle lady, sent our souls to sever
From all the wear and labour of the light.
Thrice welcome art thou! brood about my pillow,
And cover me with darkness as a shield,
And touch my eyes with sleep — into the billow
Of soft unconsciousness my soul I yield,
And sinking, dying into sleep, I pray
To dream of her who stole my heart away.