human
O Sleep, that fillst the human breast with peace, When night's dim curtains swing from out the West, In what way, in what manner, could we rest Were thy beneficent offices to cease? O Sleep, thou art indeed the snowy fleece Upon Day's lamb. A welcome guest That comest alike to palace and to nest And givest the cares of life a glad release. O Sleep, I beg thee, rest upon my eyes, For I am weary, worn, and sad,--indeed, Of thy great mercies have I piteous need So come and lead me off to Paradise.