Classic Poem

Come, O night, with peace and rest,
I am ill of day;
Come, O night, upon thy breast
Let me drift away;
All the little stars will creep
Softly lest they mar my sleep,
Every wand'ring wind will weep,
Come, O gentle Night!

Come, O Death, with rest and peace,
I am ill of life;
Come, O death, and let us cease
Love, and joy, and strife;
O'er my grave the breath of June,
Poppy and the rose aswoon
All the yellow afternoon,
Come, O gentle Death!