Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
John Keats. 1795–1821636. To Sleep
| O SOFT embalmer of the still midnight! | |
| Shutting with careful fingers and benign | |
| Our gloom-pleased eyes, embower’d from the light, | |
| Enshaded in forgetfulness divine; | |
| O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close, | 5 |
| In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes, | |
| Or wait the amen, ere thy poppy throws | |
| Around my bed its lulling charities; | |
| Then save me, or the passèd day will shine | |
| Upon my pillow, breeding many woes; | 10 |
| Save me from curious conscience, that still lords | |
| Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; | |
| Turn the key deftly in the oilèd wards, | |
| And seal the hushèd casket of my soul. |