Poem by Helen Gray Cone

To Sleep

  All slumb'rous images that be, combined,
  To this white couch and cool shall woo thee, Sleep!
  First will I think on fields of grasses deep
  In gray-green flower, o'er which the transient wind
  Runs like a smile; and next will call to mind
  How glistening poplar-tops, when breezes creep
  Among their leaves, a tender motion keep,
  Stroking the sky, like touch of lovers kind.

  Ah, having felt thy calm kiss on mine eyes,
  All night inspiring thy divine pure breath,
  I shall awake as into godhood born,
  And with a fresh, undaunted soul arise,
  Clear as the blue convolvulus at morn.
  —Dear bedfellow, deals thus thy brother, Death?

1. Retrospect
2. The Going out of the Tide
3. Madonna Pia
4. The Trumpeter
5. King Raedwald

Alice Meynell To Sleep ("Dear fool, be true to me!")

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