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Poem by Emily Pauline Johnson


    Sleep, with her tender balm, her touch so kind,
                    Has passed me by;
    Afar I see her vesture, velvet-lined,
                    Float silently;
    O! Sleep, my tired eyes had need of thee!
    Is thy sweet kiss not meant to-night for me?

    Peace, with the blessings that I longed for so,
                    Has passed me by;
    Where'er she folds her holy wings I know
                    All tempests die;
    O! Peace, my tired soul had need of thee!
    Is thy sweet kiss denied alone to me?

    Love, with her heated touches, passion-stirred,
                    Has passed me by.
    I called, "O stay thy flight," but all unheard
                    My lonely cry:
    O! Love, my tired heart had need of thee!
    Is thy sweet kiss withheld alone from me?

    Sleep, sister-twin of Peace, my waking eyes
                    So weary grow!
    O! Love, thou wanderer from Paradise,
                    Dost thou not know
    How oft my lonely heart has cried to thee?
    But Thou, and Sleep, and Peace, come not to me.

Emily Pauline Johnson

Emily Pauline Johnson's other poems:
  1. Where Leaps the Ste. Marie
  2. The Train Dogs
  3. The Art of Alma-Tadema
  4. Low Tide at St. Andrews
  5. The Flight of the Crows

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