sleep

A dark night calls for a classic poem by Bronte

Not in as much of a light-hearted mood tonight.  I often wonder at the tormented souls of writers, previous.  The daily toils and pressures I feel seem light in contrast. 

One of my favorites… begun with one of my favorite stanzas.

The Horrors of Sleep

Sleep brings no joy to me,
Remembrance never dies,
My soul is given to mystery,
And lives in sighs.

Sleep brings no rest to me;
The shadows of the dead
My wakening eyes may never see
Surround my bed.

Sleep bring no hope to me,
In soundest sleep they come,
And with their doleful imag’ry
Deepen the gloom.

Sleep brings no strength to me,
No power renewed to brave
I only sail a wilder sea,
A darker wave.

Sleep brings be friend to me
To soothe and aid to bear;
They all gaze on, how scornfully,
And I despair.

Sleep brings no wish to fret
My harassed heart beneath;
My only wish is to forget
In endless sleep of death.

                   ~ Emily Bronte

Sweet dreams,

The Hatter