The Magnetic Lady to Her Patient

'Sleep, sleep on! forget thy pain;

My hand is on thy brow,

My spirit on thy brain;

My pity on thy heart, poor friend;

And from my fingers flow

The powers of life, and like a sign,

Seal thee from thine hour of woe;

And brood on thee, but may not blend

With thine.

'Sleep, sleep on! I love thee not;

But when I think that he

Who made and makes my lot

As full of flowers as thine of weeds,

Might have been lost like thee;

And that a hand which was not mine

Might then have charmed his agony

As I another's--my heart bleeds

For thine.

'Sleep, sleep, and with the slumber of

The dead and the unborn

Forget thy life and love;

Forget that thou must wake forever;

Forget the world's dull scorn;

Forget lost health, and the divine

Feelings which died in youth's brief morn;

And forget me, for I can never

Be thine.

'Like a cloud big with a May shower,

My soul weeps healing rain

On thee, thou withered flower!

It breathes mute music on thy sleep

Its odour calms thy brain!

Its light within thy gloomy breast

Spreads like a second youth again.

By mine thy being is to its deep

Possessed.

'The spell is done. How feel you now?'

'Better--Quite well,' replied

The sleeper.--'What would do

You good when suffering and awake?

What cure your head and side?--'

'What would cure, that would kill me, Jane:

And as I must on earth abide

Awhile, yet tempt me not to break

My chain.'