The Sleeper歌词

作词 : Anna-Varney Cantodea
作曲 : Anna-Varney Cantodea
At midnight, in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
An opiate vapor, dewy, dim,
Exhales from out her golden rim,
And, softly dripping, drop by drop,
Upon the quiet mountain top,
Steals drowsily and musically
Into the universal valley.
The rosemary nods upon the grave;
The lily lolls upon the wave;
Wrapping the fog about its breast,
The ruin molders into rest;
Looking like Lethe, see! the lake
A conscious slumber seems to take,
And would not, for the world, awake.
And would not, for the world, awake.
All Beauty sleeps!
–and lo! where lies
His casement open to the skies
All Beauty sleeps!
All Beauty sleeps!
–and lo! where lies
His casement open to the skies
Oh, lover bright! can it be right-
This window open to the night?
The wanton airs, from the tree-top,
Laughingly through the lattice drop-
The bodiless airs, a wizard rout,
Flit through thy chamber in and out,
And wave the curtain canopy
So fitfully–so carefully-
Above the closed and fringed lid
'Neath which thy slumb'ring soul lies hid,
That, o'er the floor and down the wall,
Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall!
Oh, lover dear, hast thou no fear?
Why and what art thou dreaming here?
Sure thou art come O'er far-off seas,
A wonder to these garden trees!
Strange is thy pallor! strange thy dress,
Strange, above all, thy length of tress,
And this all this
and solemn silentness!
My lover sleeps!
Oh, may his sleep,
As it is lasting,so be deep!
Soft may the worms about his creep!
I pray to God that he may lie
For ever with unopened eye.