On Sleep.
O sleep! what though of death thou art
To be an image said,
I wish thee still with all my heart,
The partner of my bed.
Thy company, soft sleep, then give,
While in thy arms I lie;
How sweet! thus, without life, to live!
Thus, without death, to die!
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
← Back to The Southern Literary Messenger, Volume I., 1834-35