Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes,
Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose
On this afflicted prince; fall like a cloud
In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud
Or painful to his slumbers; easy, sweet,
And as a purling stream, thou son of Night,
Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain,
Like hollow murmuring wind or silver rain;
Into this prince gently, oh gently slide,
And kiss him into slumbers like a bride.
Back to John Fletcher
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓
To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.
Comments1Honestly didn't find this poem to be particularly captivating or relatable. It seemed to focus on the idea of sleep as a relief from suffering, but the language and imagery used didn't really resonate with me. Maybe others would appreciate the poetic expression more, but for me, it just didn't hit the mark.