The eyes grew heavy, ready for repose,And dreams' soft breath upon their lashes rose.
It passed in fragrant, gentle, gliding flight,Yearning—then stilling pain's tumultuous might.
And ever from sweet incense-cups it sendsA spell that shows imagination's ends.
It slumbered, knowing nothing of the nightSave tenderness, like wine for thirst's delight.
The spirit drunk on fantasy, the heartFound wish fulfilled where dreamland's blessings start.
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