Let me sleep.
I am all too tired to weep
For the sunlight of the Past
Sunk within the drowning deep.
Treasured vanities I cast
In an unregarded heap.
Time has given rest at last.
Let me sleep.
IN TIME OF SICKNESS
Lost Youth, come back again!
Laugh at weariness and pain.
Come not in dreams, but come in truth,
Lost Youth.
Sweetheart of long ago,
Why do you haunt me so?
Were you not glad to part,
Sweetheart?
Still Death, that draws so near,
Is it hope you bring, or fear?
Is it only ease of breath,
Still Death?
Footnotes:
{1} Mr. Butler lectures on Physics, or, as it is called in
Scotland, Natural Philosophy.
End of Project Gutenberg Etext of R. F. Murray: His Poems with a Memoir
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