Page:Prometheus bound - Browning (1833).djvu/190

 In woe,—that, while to drowning tears Our hearts their joys resign, We may remember who can turn Such water into wine.

By hours of day,—that when our feet O'er hill and valley run, We still may think the light of truth More welcome than the sun.

By hours of night,—that when the air Its dew and shadow yields, We still may hear the voice of God In silence of the fields.

Oh! then sleep comes on us like death, All soundless, deaf and deep: Lord! teach us so to watch and pray, That death may come like sleep.