O soft embalmer of the still midnight
Shutting, with careful fingers and benign
Our gloom‑pleas’d eyes, embower’d from the light
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close
In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes
Or wait the “Amen” ere thy poppy throws
Around my bed its lulling charities
Then save me, or the passèd day will shine
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes
Save me, save me from curious conscience, that still lords
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;
Turn the key deftly in the oilèd wards
And seal the hushèd casket of my Soul