THOMAS PHILIP RANNI'S COLUMN'S COLUMN

THE SLEEP

By Elizabeth Barret Browning

Of all the thoughts of God that are
Borne inward into souls afar,
Along the Psalmists music deep,
Now tell me if that any is,
For gift or grace, surprassing this:
"He giveth his beloved- Sleep?"
What would we give to our beloved?
The hero's heart to be unmoved,
The poet's star-tuned harp to sweep,
The patriot's voice to teach and rouse,
The monarch's crown to light the brows?
He giveth his beloved-sleep.
What do we give to our beloved?
A little faith all undisproved,
A little dust to overweep,
And bitter memories to make
The whole earth blasted for our sake:
He giveth his beloved-sleep.







Forwarded by Thomas Philip