Come heavy sleepe the image of true death
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And close up these my weary weeping eyes
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Whose spring of tears doth stop my vitall breath
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And tears my hart with sorrows sigh swoln cries
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Come and posses my tired thoughts worn soul
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That living dies, that living dies, that living dies
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Till thou on me be stoule
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Come and posses my tired thoughts worn soul
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That living dies, that living dies, that living dies
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Till thou on me be stoule
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Come shadow of my end, and shape of rest
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Allied to death, child to his blackfac´d night
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Come thou and charme these rebels in my breast
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Whose waking fancies doe my mind affright
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O come sweet sleepe - come, or I die for ever
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Come ere my last sleepe comes, or come never
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Come Heavy Sleep
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| Sting(스팅) |
