The poem
On this my pensive pillow, gentle Sleep! Descend, in all thy downy plumage drest: Wipe with thy wing these eyes that wake to weep, And place thy crown of poppies on my breast.
O steep my senses in oblivion's balm, And sooth my throbbing pulse with lenient hand; This tempest of my boiling blood becalm! Despair grows mild at thy supreme command.
Yet ah! in vain, familiar with the gloom, And sadly toiling through the tedious night, I seek sweet slumber, while that virgin bloom, For ever hovering, haunts my wretched sight.
Nor would the dawning day my sorrows charm: Black midnight and the blaze of noon alike To me appear, while with uplifted arm Death stands prepar'd, but still delays, to strike.
reaction to poem "Ode tp Sleep"
Poet beautifully captures the thought there is no problem that sleep cannot conquer.Ah sweet God-given rest to arise renewed refreshed.