Let my eyes and ears now stray
far from my maddening shroud;
somewhere yet farthest away,
‘ere my mind is none too loud.
No more may bear sullen tears,
‘ere madness has no hiding place;
let me find solace in my years,
‘ere have I semblance of its pace.
Borne of tears, tho’ none are wept,
let my mind have devices, still;
lend some tide ‘ere dreams are kept,
let me yet have thoughts to spill.
No burden have I awaiting ‘ere,
such as weight of ardent kind;
’tis no regard, yet still I dare,
as sorrow has yet me in mind.
Take me now into your hands,
o’, sultry waters, washing o’er;
carry me now to distant lands,
‘ere sun is warm upon that shore.
Tho’ skies may yet darken ‘ere,
let me sleep inside the storm;
‘ere no wind blows, yet sweet is air,
‘ere no sun shines, yet still is warm.
That star, that yon horizon light,
‘ere no clouds too far to see;
‘ere eagles soar in endless flight,
and age yet slumbers still in me.
‘Ere no more days may yet arise,
let me sleep ‘neath midnight sky;
‘ere stay the light, but for my eyes,
‘ere then attend quietus reply.