Smiling, thy heart shall hear
Quiet waters lapsing thin,
And locusts shrilling clear.



LOTOS.


Wherefore awake so long,
Wide-eyed, laden with care?
Not all battle is life,
But a little respite and peace
May fold us round as a fleece
Soft-woven for all men's wear.
Sleep, then, mindless of strife;
Slumber, dreamless of wrong;--
Hearken my slumber-song,
Falling asleep.

Drowsily all noon long
The warm winds rustle the grass
Hush'dly, lulling thy brain,--
Burthened with murmur of bees
And numberless whispers, and ease.
Dream-clouds gather and pass
Of painless remembrance of pain.
Havened from rumor of wrong,
Dreams are thy slumber-song,
Fallen asleep.