Sonnet 149

Sweet death! That blessed sleep in endless night
That frees us from the burdens of life’s dray;
Though colors ever bring the mind delight,
Who would eschew still gloam at end of day?
Of peace and solitude that knows no end
Who yet complained of such a blissful state?
Who wakes from restful slumber to append,
That quietude did not but aggravate?
As surely as soft moon succeeds harsh sun,
As surely as bright sky shall fade to black,
Why dread that time when worldly work is done
And we enjoy a sleep that ever lasts?
Men fear not death but for the rest it brings;
Save heaven or hell may haunt them in their dreams.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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