SONGS OF THE SOUL
THE SPELL
Ah, this old, old nectar of night
Brewed below by Sun God bright!—
Let every little fleshly cell
That’s tired and thirsty drink it well.
By soothing spell of sleep eject
All aches that heart and brain infect!
The spell quick marching on
Falls on me now so warm,
And robs my mind
Of linked thoughts, to bind
Me prisoner in its charm.
Brewed below by Sun God bright!—
Let every little fleshly cell
That’s tired and thirsty drink it well.
By soothing spell of sleep eject
All aches that heart and brain infect!
The spell quick marching on
Falls on me now so warm,
And robs my mind
Of linked thoughts, to bind
Me prisoner in its charm.
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