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With whom, then, should I sleep? perhaps with thee,
And gaze into those eyes, those deep sad eyes,
Feeling the drowsy touch of thy vast wings.
Thy brother Sleep I know, with him have lain
Many a night, forgetting all the day
And every pain in that sweet comradeship.
Ah, he is younger, gay, capricious oft,
Dwelling with some for hours, or else away,
As with my friend, for lonely days and nights.
But thou, angel of night, youth of the silent glance,
All sleep with thee, but yet how diversely,
And but the very few hail thee with gladness.
Say would there be a telling of our tryst,
A wild Greek meeting with my spirit free,
Or would it be but rest, a heavy sleeping?
I fancy I could echo sighs with thee,
Picturing all the sights that thou hast seen,
And flying in my thought where thou hast flown.
