The Sleeper - Edgar Allan Poe
At midnight, in the shadowed room,
She lies beneath the silent gloom,
A sleep that knows no waking light,
Her form, as pale as moonlit night.
Her brow with death’s soft kiss is crowned,
Her hands lie cold, no warmth is found.
The nightingale’s sweet song will cease,
As death brings her eternal peace.
Sleep, sleep, my love, so still,
In dreams that no one can fulfill.
Beyond the stars, beyond the deep,
You’ll rest in silence, forever sleep.
Her eyes, once bright, have closed in rest,
The angels guard her sacred breast.
The winds will whisper soft and low,
Of all the love she used to know.
No more the world will hear her call,
No more the birds will greet her fall.
In endless sle...