SHALL I yield up this shallow breath
For breathings full and deep,
Some night into the hands of Death,
As now, to-night, to Sleep ?
Shall I not know that peace is best,
As I am sure to-night,
Nor grudge a tired heart its rest
From sorrow and delight ?
So would I come, — as one who brings
His soul for God to keep,
To be washed clean among the springs
Of silence and of sleep;
So friendly find my waiting urn
As in my bed to-night —
A place to tarry and unlearn
Until the morning light.