Posthumous Poems/Love and Sleep, I
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For works with similar titles, see Love and Sleep.
LOVE AND SLEEP
I
Let me forget a little space,
O love, let love forget!
Or, if love will not let,
Blind thou with hair and hands his eyes and face;
Blind him and bind him, memory, tho' he fret,
And weep, and shift his place.
Let me forget a little space,
O love, let love forget!
Or, if love will not let,
Blind thou with hair and hands his eyes and face;
Blind him and bind him, memory, tho' he fret,
And weep, and shift his place.
Thou seest how well the old loves sleep,
Each in a small sweet bed,
With flowers at foot and head,
Made out of griefs not grown enough to weep,
And joys so young their lips are hardly red,
And their hearts hardly leap.
Each in a small sweet bed,
With flowers at foot and head,
Made out of griefs not grown enough to weep,
And joys so young their lips are hardly red,
And their hearts hardly leap.
Watch lest they wake, sweet Memory; set
A seal upon thy breath,
As one that sorroweth;
And hide thine eyes, and thou too shalt forget;
And sleep shall lead love by the hand to death,
And life be quiet yet.
A seal upon thy breath,
As one that sorroweth;
And hide thine eyes, and thou too shalt forget;
And sleep shall lead love by the hand to death,
And life be quiet yet.