V.

O sleep, it is a gentle thing

Belovd from pole to pole!

To Mary-queen the praise be yeven

She sent the gentle sleep from heaven

That slid into my soul.

The silly buckets on the deck

That had so long remaind,

I dreamt that they were ?lld with dew

And when I awoke it raind.

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.

I movd and could not feel my limbs,

I was so light, almost

I thought that I had died in sleep,

And was a blessed Ghost.

The roaring wind! it roard far off,

It did not come anear;

But with its sound it shook the sails

That were so thin and sere.

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