Sleep, downy sleep, Come close thine eyes Tired with thee holding vanities Sleep, downy sleep, That drives away The toils and follies of the day An empty tale A morning flower Cut down, withered In an hour Welcome, welcome sweet sleep Some sure support, Some sure support Against each spell The flame is low The lamps burn low The end of a train of thought An empty tale A morning flower Cut down, withered In an hour And empty tale With each declining year