Anna Hempstead Branch - Sweet Weariness lyrics

Fatigue itself may be a pleasant thing And weariness be silken, soft and fine! Upon my eyes its little vapors shine, Trailing me softly like a colored wing! Tender as when belovéd voices sing It steals upon me and with touch divine Lulls all my senses till each thought of mine Is hushed to quiet, unremembering. Oh, weariness thrice dear, so frailly spun Of ended pleasure that still shines and glows; Oh, weariness, thrice dear! What have I done To earn this delicate and deep repose? Child, thou hast worshiped at the setting sun And looked, long, long, upon the opening rose.