Verse > William Wordsworth > Complete Poetical Works
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TO SLEEP

          FOND words have oft been spoken to thee, Sleep!
          And thou hast had thy store of tenderest names;
          The very sweetest, Fancy culls or frames,
          When thankfulness of heart is strong and deep!
          Dear Bosom-child we call thee, that dost steep
          In rich reward all suffering; Balm that tames
          All anguish; Saint that evil thoughts and aims
          Takest away, and into souls dost creep,
          Like to a breeze from heaven. Shall I alone,
          I surely not a man ungently made,                           10
          Call thee worst Tyrant by which Flesh is crost?
          Perverse, self-willed to own and to disown,
          Mere slave of them who never for thee prayed,
          Still last to come where thou art wanted most!
                                                              1806.


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