Sleep

"Sleep, brother of Death, rise tip and say 
What dost thou here in the churchyard-hay? 
Thy garland is torn and thy torch is out, 
On thy mouth is grief, in thine eyes is doubt. 
Have men upbraided and thrust thee away?" 

Sleep said, "I have bridled and led the thunder,
And held the pale horse in a leash of wonder. 
I have kept the seed of the fire alive. 
And many a broken flower bade thrive; 
But I and Joy, we must part asunder. 

"For man has opened the bolted door; 
He has laughed in my face, and gone before 
Through fields forbidden; the shapes I knew 
He has called to heel; he has smitten through 
My dreams with the word that he dreams no more. 

"Man laughs at all things, and will not weep.
With leafy laughter he covers deep 
Dense coverts, where wild beasts lurk and lie,
Afraid to spring when he passes by.
Man says, 'Dreams fail me: I will not sleep.' 

"What shall I do, now my reign is o'er? 
Not Death my brother can now restore 
My ancient glory: 'tis man alone, 
Whose pain defies me, can heal my own." 
Sleep knelt by a new grave, weeping sore.