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Oh Hypnos lord of all the lands of dream,
    Whose slumb’rous breath weaves eyes with poppy leaf,
    And whose sweet lullabies mortals relieve
Of throes, and shields them from the evil scheme
    Of Phobetor who roams around the world at close of eve,
 
Oh Hypnos, phantom o’er each mossy cot,
    Whose gentle, dreamy hands all place to rest
    The cooing birds found snoozing in their nest
And all the goats upon the meads where not
    A pallid moonbeam can descry, for all’s by night suppressed,
 
Or mortal denizens in cities, pent
    Or gleaming fish found in the ocean’s deep,
    Or cattle, waiting in the glens for sleep
To dawn upon their minds, and their souls send
    Into Elysium until the morn shall night’s shoots reap,
 
And plant its gloried beams into the bare
    And fill the lands with nec’trous, honeyed rays,
    Come on us, god of sleep, unearthly grace
From out the shadows of your mystic lair,
    And spread across our waking minds your thick, morphean haze.
 
How much I’ve agonized and yearned to gain
    The lavender and eat such dozy bud,
    And try to fall asleep, and ever nod
As I get lost and stray in dream’s domain,
    But never have I had success for slumber I could not!
 
I roamed across the clouds of yester night
    And round the meadows of the yesteryear,
    But never can I my bright spirit steer
Into such sleep, and take upon my flight
    Into deep slumber’s den, until, Hypnos you did appear,
 
And eased my mind and soul, and with your spells
    Had quelled the raging passions of my heart,
    And carefully had closed the draws to part,
Once you had done your deed and slowed the swells
    Of my free spirit, and had my sore mind with slumbers barred…
     

© 2014 Gleb Zavlanov

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