Nancy Wertsch Music

Text: 
O soft embalmer of the still midnight, 
      Shutting, with careful fingers and benign, 
Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light, 
     Enshaded in forgetfulness divine: 
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close 
     In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes, 
Or wait the "Amen," ere thy poppy throws 
     Around my bed its lulling charities. 
Then save me, or the passed day will shine 
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes,— 
     Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords 
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; 
     Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, 
And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul. 

John Keats (1795-1821)