To Sleep
O SOFT embalmer of the still midnight!
Shutting with careful fingers and benign
Our gloom-pleased eyes embower'd from the light
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine;
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee close 5
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 pass¨¨d day will shine
Upon my pillow breeding many woes; 10
Save me from curious conscience that still lords
Its strength for darkness burrowing like a mole;
Turn the key deftly in the oil¨¨d wards
And seal the hush¨¨d casket of my soul.
Poem by
John Keats
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