To Sleep / Keats, John

                                      1816
                                    TO SLEEP
                                 by John Keats

        O soft embalmer of the still midnight,
          Shutting with careful fingers and benign
        Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,
          Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:
        O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close
          In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes,
        Or wait the amen ere thy poppy throws
          Around my bed its lulling charities.
        Then save me, or the passed day will shine
        Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;
          Save me from curious conscience, that still lords
        Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;
          Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,
        And seal the hushed casket of my soul.

                        THE END
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