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The mystery Of folded sleep. - Lord Alfred Tennyson, Dream of Fair Women (st. 66) When in the down I sink my head, Sleep, Death's twin-brother, times my breath. - Lord Alfred Tennyson, In Memoriam (pt. LXVIII) If there aught in sleep can charm the wise? To lie in dead oblivion, losing half The fleeting moments of too short a life; Total extinction of th' enlighten'd soul, * * * * * Who would in such a gloomy state remain Longer than nature craves? - James Thomson (1) For is there aught in Sleep can charm the wise? To lie in dead oblivion, loosing half The fleeting moments of too short a life-- . . . . Who would in such a gloomy state remain Longer than Nature craves? - James Thomson (1), Seasons--Summer (l. 71) Well the art thou knowest in soft forgetfulness to steep the eyes which sorrow taught to watch and weep. - Mrs. Mary B. Tighe Alike to the slave and his oppressor cometh night with sweet refreshment, and half of the life of the most wretched is gladdened by the soothings of sleep. - Martin Farquhar Tupper Who can wrestle against Sleep?--Yet is that giant very gentleness. - Martin Farquhar Tupper, Of Beauty Yet never sleep the sun up. Prayer shou'd Dawn with the day. There are set, awful hours 'Twixt heaven and us. The manna was not good After sun-rising; far day sullies flowres. Rise to prevent the sun; sleep doth sin glut, And heaven's gate opens when the world's is shut. - Henry Vaughan ("The Silurist"), Rules and Lessons (st. 2) Softly, O midnight hours! Move softly o'er the bowers Where lies in happy sleep a girl so fair: For ye have power, men say, Our hearts in sleep to sway And cage cold fancies in a moonlight snare. - Aubrey Thomas de Vere, Song--Softly, O Midnight Hours Deep rest and sweet, most like indeed to death's own quietness. - Virgil or Vergil (Publius Virgilius Maro Vergil), The Aeneid (bk. VI, l. 522), (William Morris' translation) Thou sleepest, Brutus, and yet Rome is in chains. [Lat., Tu dors, Brutus, et Rome est dans les fers.] - Voltaire (Francois Marie Arouet Voltaire), La Mort de Cesar (II, 2) Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber, Holy angels guard thy bed! Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head. - Isaac Watts, A Cradle Hymn 'Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him complain, "You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again." As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed, Turns his sides and his shoulders and his heavy head. "A little more sleep, and a little more slumber;" Thus he wastes half his days, and his hours without number, And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands, Or walks about sauntering, or trifling he stands. - Isaac Watts, Moral Songs--The Sluggard (l. 1) Sleeplessness is a desert without vegetation or inhabitants. - Jessamyn West Come, gentle sleep! attend thy votary's prayer, And, though death's image, to my couch repair; How sweet, thought lifeless, yet with life to lie, And, without dying, O how sweet to die! - Dr. John Wolcot (Wolcott or Woolcott) (used pseudonym Peter Pindar), translation of Thomas Warton's Latin Epigram on Sleep for a statue of Somnus in the garden of Mr. Harris How sweet, though lifeless, yet with life to lie; and without dying, oh, how sweet to die! - Dr. John Wolcot (Wolcott or Woolcott) (used pseudonym Peter Pindar) Balm that tames all anguish, saint that evil thoughts and aims takest away, and into souls dost creep, like to a breeze from heaven. - William Wordsworth Inviting sleep and soft forgetfulness. - William Wordsworth And to tired limbs and over-busy thoughts, Inviting sleep and soft forgetfulness. - William Wordsworth, The Excursion (bk. IV) How many sleep who keep the world awake! - Edward Young Man's rich restorative; his balmy bath, That supples, lubricates, and keep in play The various movements of this nice machine, Which asks such frequent periods of repair, When tir'd with vain rotations of the day, Sleep winds us up for the succeeding dawn; Fresh we spin on, till sickness clogs our wheels, Or death quite breaks the spring, and motion ends. - Edward Young Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep! He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where fortune smiles; the wretched he forsakes. - Edward Young, Night Thoughts (night I, l. 1) Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse Of life stood still, and nature made a pause. - Edward Young, Night Thoughts (night I, l. 23) Displaying page 9 of 9 for this topic: << Prev 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 [9]
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