Sleep, then, ah sleep!

Vain, all in vain! O Love, thou dost not hear;

Thou art too lost in sleep to wake again;

In vain my song, in vain the falling tear,

Vain, all in vain!

She will not wake again till Gabriel sings;

For any mortal music we can make.

My lute and I, with these heart-broicen strings,

She will not wake.

Sleep then, ah! sleep -- if slumber be thy will;

We would not vex thee, though we needs must weep.

Of slumber everlasting take thy fill --

Sleep then, ah! sleep.