Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 1, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/228

176 V.

O sleep, it is a gentle thing

Belov'd from pole to pole!

To Mary-queen the praise be given

She sent the gentle sleep from heaven

That slid into my soul.

The silly buckets on the deck

That had so long remain'd,

I dreamt that they were fill'd with dew

And when I awoke it rain'd.

My lips were wet, my throat was cold,

My garments all were dank;

Sure I had drunken in my dreams

And still my body drank.