Poem by Augusta Webster

* * *

DEAR love, good-night. And, tender sleep,
Seal up her lids like these drowsed flowers,
To make day fair when they unclose.
Be hushed around her, Night, and keep
Thy silent guard on her repose;
But speed thine hours.

Dear love, sleep on. This weary space
I wake and long for day and thee,
And count the slow stars from their west.
Sleep while I hunger for thy face,
Sleep, dearest, in unbroken rest;
But dream of me.

1. Young May Sat Fainting and Chill
2. She Has Made Me Wayside Posies
3. 'Tis Hard
4. Choosing
5. Joy That's Half Too Keen, and True

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