Page:Songs of the Affections.pdf/262

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For sleep is awful.

! lightly, lightly tread! A holy thing is sleep, On the worn spirit shed, And eyes that wake to weep.

A holy thing from Heaven, A gracious dewy cloud, A covering mantle given The weary to enshroud.

Oh! lightly, lightly tread! Revere the pale still brow, The meekly-drooping head, The long hair's willowy flow.