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Sagas
of Vaster Britain: Poems of the Race, the Empire and
the Divinity of Man
by
William Wilfred Campbell
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THE
WIND OF SLEEP
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OUT
of the dusk it blows—
The soft, soft wind of
sleep:
Out of those lands of rose,
From the ocean’s
petalled deep:
From the verges of old repose;—
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The soft, soft wind of
sleep.
Out
of the portals of dusk
Its wings of slumber
have flown,
Subtle, of amber and musk,
Its breathings are Tyrian
blown.
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And the heart of the world’s great deeds,
The passion, the love’s
glad chime,
Are washed as blossoms and weeds
On the Lethean stream
of time.
And
the red desire of the dawn,
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The poignant heartache
of care,
Like the daylight, are vanished and gone
Where the weary and sorrowful
fare.
Out
through those portals of horn,
Out through the ivory
gate,
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Where
the dream and desire are re-born,
And the dead of the old
world wait.
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