Thomas Warton Jr.
Ode to Sleep
On this my pensive pillow, gentle Sleep!
Descend, in all thy downy plumage drest:
Wipe with thy wing these eyes that wake to weep,
And place thy crown of poppies on my breast.
O steep my senses in oblivion's balm,
And sooth my throbbing pulse with lenient hand;
This tempest of my boiling blood becalm!
Despair grows mild at thy supreme command.
Yet ah! in vain, familiar with the gloom,
And sadly toiling through the tedious night,
I seek sweet slumber, while that virgin bloom,
For ever hovering, haunts my wretched sight.
Nor would the dawning day my sorrows charm:
Black midnight and the blaze of noon alike
To me appear, while with uplifted arm
Death stands prepar'd, but still delays, to strike.
Thomas Warton Jr.'s Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Ode to Sleep by Thomas Warton Jr. )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
William Carlos Williams
(17 September 1883 – 4 March 1963)
(13 February 1879 - 2 March 1949)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(01 January 1950)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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