Classic Poem

Dim Sleep, that keep'st the soul in awe,
By gates that lead to the unknown: —
All life sways to thy magic law,
All portals open toward thy throne; —
Thou arbiter in ebon stone,
A mist about thee ever thrown.

Thou peoplest the dark with visions filled,
Thou breathest with thy poppied breath,
And all the loves of life are stilled
Unto similitude of death.