Swiftly walk o'er the western wave,

　　Spirit of Night!

　　Out of the misty¹ eastern cave,

　　Where, all the long and lone² daylight,

　　Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear,

　　Which make thee terrible and dear——

　　Swift be thy flight!

　　Wrap thy form in a mantle³ gray,

　　Star-inwrought!

　　Blind with thine hair the eyes of day;

　　Kiss her until she be wearied out,

　　Then wander o'er city, and sea, and land,

　　Touching⁴ all with thine opiate wand——

　　Come, long-sought!

　　When I arose and saw the dawn,

　　I sighed for thee;

　　When light rode high, and the dew was gone,

　　And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,

　　And the weary day turned to his rest,

　　Lingering like an unloved guest,

　　I sighed for thee.

　　Thy brother Death came, and cried,

　　Wouldst thou me?

　　Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,

　　Murmured like a noontide bee,

　　Shall I nestle near thy side?

　　Wouldst thou me?——And I replied,

　　No, not thee!

　　Death will come when thou art dead,

　　Soon, too soon——

　　Sleep will come when thou art fled;

　　Of neither would I ask the boon⁵

　　I ask of thee, beloved Night——

　　Swift be thine approaching flight,

　　Come soon, soon!