Sleep-Book Some of the Poetry of Slumber — Reading Notes

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Authors: Everett, Leolyn Louise, 1888- [Compiler] Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2005 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Sleep -- Poetry Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

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Words 5,990

Reading time 27 min

Text sections 3

The source record for Sleep-Book Some of the Poetry of Slumber — Reading Notes measures this digital text at 5,990 words, 27 min estimated reading time, and 3 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 22.1 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Sleep -- Poetry,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #16637

An anthology of poetry about sleep, compiled by Leolyn Louise Everett, featuring works from Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton, Keats, and others, with original verses by the compiler. The collection moves from invocation to lullaby to nocturnal reflection, emphasizing sleep as a restorative, magical, and sometimes elusive state.

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Produced by Pat Saumell and Chuck Greif

SOME OF THE POETRY OF SLUMBER

LEOLYN LOUISE EVERETT

Three hundred and twenty copies of this book have been printed on hand-made Van Gelder paper, for The Watkins Company, at the press of Styles & Cash New York, and type distributed.

who has brought the joy and beauty of dream into so many lives

Peace, peace, thou over-anxious, foolish heart, Rest, ever-seeking soul, calm, mad desires, Quiet, wild dreams--this is the time of sleep. Hold her more close than life itself. Forget All the excitements of the day, forget All problems and discomforts. Let the night Take you unto herself, her blessed self. Peace, peace, thou over-anxious, foolish heart, Rest, ever-seeking soul, calm, mad desires, Quiet, wild dreams--this is the time of sleep.

_Leolyn Louise Everett_.

Sleep, softly-breathing god! his downy wing Was fluttering now.

_Samuel T. Coleridge_.

I lay in slumber's shadowy vale

_Samuel T. Coleridge_.

And more to lulle him in his slumber soft, A trickling stream from high rock tumbling down And ever-drizzling raine upon the loft, Mixt with a murmuring winde, much like the sowne Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a swowne. No other noyse, nor peoples troublous cryes, As still are wont t'annoy the walled towne, Might there be heard; but carelesse Quiet lyes Wrapt in eternal! silence farre from enimyes.

The waters murmuring, With such cohort as they keep Entice the dewy-feathered Sleep. _Il Penseroso_.

V. Ye spotted snakes with double tongue, Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen; Newts and blind-worms do no wrong, Come not near our fairy queen. Philomel, with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby, Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby; Never harm. Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh So goodnight with lullaby.

_William Shakespeare_.

Sleep, Silence child, sweet father of soft rest, Prince, whose approach peace to all mortals brings, Indifferent host to shepherds and to kings, Sole comforter of minds with grief oppressed; Lo, by thy charming rod all breathing things Lie slumbering, with forgetfulness possessed.

_William Drummond of Hawthornden_.

Come, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving Lock me in delight awhile; Let some pleasing dreams beguile All my fancies; that from thence I may feel an influence, All my powers of care bereaving!

Though but a shadow, but a sliding Let me know some little joy! We that suffer long annoy Are contented with a thought Through an idle fancy wrought; O let my joys have some abiding!

But still let Silence trew night-watches keepe, That sacred Peace may in assurance rayne, And tymely Sleep, when it is time to sleep, May pour his limbs forth on your pleasant playne; The whiles an hundred little winged loves Like divers-fethered doves, Shall fly and flutter round about your bed.

Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes, Brother to Death, sweetly thyself dispose On this afflicted prince; fall like a cloud In gentle showers; give nothing that is loud Or painful to his slumbers,--easy, sweet And as a purling stream, thou son of Night, Pass by his troubled senses; sing his pain Like hollow murmuring wind or silver rain, Into this prince gently, oh gently, slide And kiss him into slumbers like a bride.

God hath set Labor and rest, as day and night, to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft, slumberous weight inclines Our eyelids.

Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast' Would I were sleep and peace so sweet to rest

_William Shakespeare_.

The innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care, t The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast.

_William Shakespeare_.

Come, Sleep. O, Sleep! The certain knot of peace, The baiting place of wit, the balm of woe, The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, The indifferent judge between the high and low.

Close thine eyes, and sleep secure; Thy soul is safe, thy body sure. He that guards thee, he that keeps, Never slumbers, never sleeps. A quiet conscience in the breast Has only peace, has only rest. The wisest and the mirth of kings Are out of tune unless she sings: Then close thine eyes in peace and sleep secure, No sleep so sweet as thine, no rest so sure.

_Charles I, King of England_.

Oh, Brahma, guard in sleep The merry lambs and the complacent kine, The flies below the leaves and the young mice In the tree roots, and all the sacred flocks Of red flamingo; and my love Vijaya, And may no restless fay, with fidget finger Trouble his sleeping; give him dreams of me.

Solemnly, mournfully, Dealing its dole, The Curfew Bell Is beginning to toll.

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The compiler's own poem opens the collection, directly addressing the reader with an imperative to find peace: "Peace, peace, thou over-anxious, foolish heart." This personal invocation sets a tone of intimate counsel rather than scholarly distance. The anthology then juxtaposes canonical voices—Spenser's drowsy landscapes, Shakespeare's fairy lullaby, Milton's "dewy-feathered Sleep"—with lesser-known verses, all united by a shared vocabulary of murmuring waters, poppied warmth, and the hush of night. The selection favors sensory, soothing imagery over narrative or argument, creating a cumulative effect that mirrors the gradual onset of slumber.

From Invocation to Lullaby

The first dozen poems establish a pattern of direct address to Sleep as a personified deity or gentle force. Coleridge's fragment describes Sleep as a "softly-breathing god," while Drummond calls him "Silence child, sweet father of soft rest." Shakespeare's lullaby from A Midsummer Night's Dream introduces a protective, magical tone—warding off "spotted snakes" and "thorny hedgehogs"—that recurs in later selections. The compiler's own voice reappears only at the collection's end, framing the anthology as a personal offering. Readers may notice how the opening poems emphasize invitation rather than description, as if the act of reading itself becomes a ritual to summon sleep.

Sensory Landscapes of Drowsiness

Several poems construct environments that induce sleep through accumulated sensory detail. Spenser's stanza from The Faerie Queene layers "trickling stream," "ever-drizzling raine," and "murmuring winde" to produce a soundscape that "cast him in a swowne." Milton's Il Penseroso similarly entices "dewy-feathered Sleep" with "waters murmuring." These passages rely on repetition of soft consonants and long vowels, a technique the compiler likely valued for its hypnotic effect. The absence of sharp, jarring imagery is notable; even Keats's "poppied warmth" and "soothed limbs" maintain a consistent texture of gentle oblivion.

The Compiler's Framing Voice

Leolyn Louise Everett contributes two original poems: the opening invocation and a closing nocturne. The latter shifts from collective lullaby to solitary vigil: "Now is the blackest hour of the long night, / The soul of midnight." Here, sleep is absent, and the speaker looks out "with tired, wide, sleepless eyes." This contrast with the earlier poems—which assume sleep will come—adds a note of longing and vulnerability. The dedication "To ETHEL DU FRÉ HOUSTON / who has brought the joy and beauty of dream into so many lives" suggests a personal context for the anthology, perhaps as a gift or tribute. The compiler's selections thus reflect both a literary taste and an intimate purpose.

Keats and the Dream Within Sleep

Three excerpts from Keats appear near the end, each treating sleep as a threshold to another state. The first describes a "wakeful swoon" and the soul "flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day." The second apostrophizes "O magic sleep! O comfortable bird" that broods over the mind, leading to "golden palaces" and "silvery enchantment." The third, from Endymion, simply names "A sleep / Full of sweet dreams and health and quiet breathing." Together, they emphasize sleep's transformative power—not mere rest but entry into a mazy world. This cluster positions dreaming as the anthology's hidden subject, hinted at but not fully explored in the earlier selections.

The anthology's brevity—under 6,000 words—invites rereading as a cumulative experience rather than a reference work. Readers may find it useful to read the poems aloud, attending to the rhythm and sound patterns that the compiler has carefully arranged. The progression from communal lullaby to personal vigil suggests a narrative arc, however subtle. Approached as a sequence, Sleep-Book rewards attention to the interplay between canonical and obscure voices, and to the quiet drama of the compiler's own poetic framing.

Leafing through the Sleep-Book, I paused at Keats’s drowsy lines, and it stirred a quiet memory of another little volume, Fleurs De Lys, and Other Poems — Reading Notes. Both feel like hushed, intimate companions for a late hour, poems that seem to breathe softly between the pages, offering rest rather than argument.