Sagas of Vaster Britain: Poems of the Race, the Empire and the Divinity of Man

by William Wilfred Campbell


 

THE WIND OF SLEEP


 

OUT of the dusk it blows—
    The soft, soft wind of sleep:
Out of those lands of rose,
    From the ocean’s petalled deep:
From the verges of old repose;—
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    The soft, soft wind of sleep.

Out of the portals of dusk
    Its wings of slumber have flown,
Subtle, of amber and musk,
    Its breathings are Tyrian blown.

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And the heart of the world’s great deeds,
    The passion, the love’s glad chime,
Are washed as blossoms and weeds
    On the Lethean stream of time.

And the red desire of the dawn,

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    The poignant heartache of care,
Like the daylight, are vanished and gone
    Where the weary and sorrowful fare.

Out through those portals of horn,
    Out through the ivory gate,

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Where the dream and desire are re-born,
    And the dead of the old world wait.