Sleep
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
1807 to 1882
Type into the gaps to complete the poem. To reset the game, click on the "Reset Game" button located below the poem. This will clear all the words you've placed in the blanks, and resetting the poem to its original state with empty blanks. If you prefer to drag and drop words, click the Drag & Drop button below. You can also print out the poem for use in the classroom.
Lull me to sleep, ye winds, whose fitful sound
Seems from some faint Aeolian harp-string caught;
Seal the hundred wakeful eyes of thought
As Hermes his lyre in sleep profound
The hundred wakeful eyes Argus bound;
For I am weary, and am
With too much toil, with too much care distraught,
And with the iron crown of anguish crowned.
thy soft hand upon my brow and cheek,
peaceful Sleep! until from pain released
I breathe uninterrupted breath!
Ah, with what subtile meaning did the
Call thee the lesser mystery at the feast
Whereof the greater mystery is death!
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