Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes,Brother to Death, sweetly thyself disposeOn this afflicted prince; fall like a cloudIn gentle showers; give nothing that is loudOr painful to his slumbers; easy, sweet,And as a purling stream, thou son of Night,Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain,Like hollow murmuring wind or silver rain;Into this prince gently, oh gently slide,And kiss him into slumbers like a bride.
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Care-charming Sleep
written byJohn Fletcher
© John Fletcher
