“She sleeps: her breathings are not heardIn palace chambers far apart.The fragrant tresses are not stirr'dThat lie upon her charmed heartShe sleeps: on either hand upswellsThe gold-fringed pillow lightly prest:She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwellsA perfect form in perfect rest.”

“When in the down I sink my head,Sleep, Death's twin-brother, times my breath;Sleep, Death's twin-brother, knows not Death,Nor can I dream of thee as dead:”

“There is sweet music here that softer fallsThan petals from blown roses on the grass,Or night-dews on still waters between wallsOf shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes;Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.Here are cool mosses deep,And thro' the moss the ivies creep,And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.”

“Dark house, by which once more I standHere in the long unlovely street,Doors, where my heart was used to beatSo quickly, waiting for a hand,A hand that can be clasp'd no more -Behold me, for I cannot sleep,And like a guilty thing I creepAt earliest morning to the door.He is not here; but far awayThe noise of life begins again,And ghastly thro' the drizzling rainOn the bald street breaks the blank day.”

“Matched with an aged wife, I mete and doleUnequal laws unto a savage race,That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.”

“A man had given all other bliss,And all his worldly worth for thisTo waste his whole heart in one kissUpon her perfect lips.”

“The words 'far, far away' had always a strange charm.”