And so, to sleep; perhaps to dream
These words were subtly pen'd,-
But thunders' roll, sans star light beam,
From Morpheus doth rend
The soft, alluring state of sleep
From eyes bereft of sight;
And yet, a vigil, soul will keep
'Til daylight nudges night.
But should sweet Morpheus so bid
The soul to bide a spell,
Methinks the eyes (if from light hid)
May bide a wee as well.
And so now I doth take my leave,
To evenings' web of slumber, weave.
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