C. S. Lewis Daily

TO SLEEP

I will find out a place for thee, O Sleep—

A hidden wood among the hill-tops green,

Full of soft streams and little winds that creep

The murmuring boughs between.

A hollow cup above the ocean placed

Where nothing rough, nor loud, nor harsh shall be,

But woodland light and shadow interlaced

And summer sky and sea

There in the fragrant twilight I will raise

A secret altar of the rich sea sod,

Whereat to offer sacrifice and praise

Unto my lonely god;

Due sacrifice of his own drowsy flowers

The deadening poppies in an ocean shell

Round which through all forgotten days and hours

The great seas wove their spell.

So may he send me dreams of dead delight

And draughts of cool oblivion, quenching pain,

And sweet, half-wakeful moments in the night

To hear the falling rain.

And when he meets me at the dusk of day

To call me home for ever, this I ask—

That he may lead me friendly on that way

And wear no frightful mask.

From Spirits in Bondage

Spirits in Bondage: A Cycle of Lyrics. Copyright © 1919 by C. S. Lewis Pte. Ltd. All rights reserved. Used with permission of HarperCollins Publishers.