O soft embalmer of the still midnight
Shutting with careful fingers and benign
Our gloom-pleased eyes embowered from the light
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:
O soothest sleep! if so it please thee, close
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 passed day will shine
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes,-
save me from curious Conscience that still lords
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;
Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards
And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.
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