I have come to the borders of sleep,/ The unfathomable deep/ Forest where all must lose/ Their way.

[Sleep is] the golden chain that ties health and our bodies together.

Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, / Where cold and unhonoured his relics are laid.

She had not heard him enter, and hardly realized his presence there. She was yawning, and he saw the red interior of her mouth as if it had been a snake's. She had stretched one arm so high above her coiled-up cable of hair that he could see its satin delicacy above the sunburn; her face was flushed with sleep, and her eyelids hung heavy over their pupils. The brim-fulness of her nature breathed from her. It was a moment when a woman's soul is more incarnate than at any other time; when the most spiritual beauty bespeaks itself flesh; and sex takes the outside place in the presentation.

Since the Brother of Death daily haunts us with dying mementoes.

But I, in the chilling twilight stand and wait At the portcullis, at thy castle gate, Longing to see the charmed door of dreams Turn on its noiseless hinges, delicate sleep!