sleep (n.)
- annihilation
- ataraxia
- bane
- bedtime
- blackout
- bye-bye
- calmness
- catalepsy
- catatonia
- catnap
- coma
- comfort
- composure
- contemplation
- death
- decease
- default
- demise
- departure
- disregard
- dissolution
- doom
- doze
- dreamland
- drowse
- dying
- ease
- end
- ending
- exit
- expiration
- extinction
- faint
- going
- grave
- hibernation
- idle
- ignore
- imperturbability
- inactivity
- kayo
- knell
- knockout
- lapse
- nap
- neglect
- nirvana
- nod
- nothingness
- oblivion
- obliviousness
- overlook
- parting
- passing
- peace
- peacefulness
- placidity
- placidness
- pound
- quiescence
- quiescency
- quiet
- quietism
- quietness
- quietude
- quietus
- relaxation
- release
- repose
- rest
- restfulness
- reward
- satori
- semiconsciousness
- senselessness
- serenity
- shut-eye
- siesta
- silence
- sleepwalking
- slumber
- smolder
- snooze
- snore
- somnambulism
- somniloquy
- stillness
- stupor
- swoon
- syncope
- tranquillity
- unconsciousness
sleep (v.)
sleep (adv.)
sleep (adj.)
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The soul that rises with us, our life's star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar.
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory, do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy.
Now, blessings light on him that first invented this same sleep! It covers a man all over, thoughts and all, like a cloak; it is meat for the hungry, drink for the thirsty, heat for the cold, and cold for the hot. It is the current coin that purchases all the pleasures of the world cheap, and the balance that sets the king and the shepherd, the fool and the wise man, even.
Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night,
Brother to Death, in silent darkness born.
And what is friendship but a name,
A charm that lulls to sleep,
A shade that follows wealth or fame,
And leaves the wretch to weep?
Wherever literature consoles sorrow or assuages pain; wherever it brings gladness to eyes which fail with wakefulness and tears, and ache for the dark house and the long sleep,—there is exhibited in its noblest form the immortal influence of Athens.
Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep.
How wonderful is Death!
Death and his brother Sleep.
Death is an eternal sleep.
The devil hath power
To assume a pleasing shape.
I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.
Night, when deep sleep falleth on men.
I would not have a slave to till my ground,
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth
That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep.
Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet!
Nothing comes to thee new or strange.
Sleep full of rest from head to feet;
Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.
He giveth his beloved sleep.
Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace!
Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,
While the stars burn, the moons increase,
And the great ages onward roll.
Midnight brought on the dusky hour
Friendliest to sleep and silence.
How sleep the brave who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes bless'd!
Rock'd in the cradle of the deep,
I lay me down in peace to sleep.
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom.
And sleep in dull cold marble.
On parent knees, a naked new-born child,
Weeping thou sat'st while all around thee smiled;
So live, that sinking in thy last long sleep,
Calm thou mayst smile, while all around thee weep.
Sleep is a death; oh, make me try
By sleeping what it is to die,
And as gently lay my head
On my grave as now my bed!
Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
Memory, the warder of the brain.
Not poppy, nor mandragora,
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world,
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou owedst yesterday.
My banks they are furnish'd with bees,
Whose murmur invites one to sleep.
O sleep, O gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse! how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep!
Sleep shall neither night nor day
Hang upon his pent-house lid.
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ.
Now I lay me down to take my sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
Now I lay me down to take my sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
O sleep, O gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse! how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
The sleep of a labouring man is sweet.
The play's the thing
Wherein I 'll catch the conscience of the king.
Let me have men about me that are fat,
Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights:
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.
For May wol have no slogardie a-night.
The seson priketh every gentil herte,
And maketh him out of his slepe to sterte.
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ.
On parent knees, a naked new-born child,
Weeping thou sat'st while all around thee smiled;
So live, that sinking in thy last long sleep,
Calm thou mayst smile, while all around thee weep.
Six hours in sleep, in law's grave study six,
Four spend in prayer, the rest on Nature fix.
While pensive poets painful vigils keep,
Sleepless themselves to give their readers sleep.
Why, let the stricken deer go weep,
The hart ungalled play;
For some must watch, while some must sleep:
So runs the world away.
Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks; methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam.
Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace!
Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,
While the stars burn, the moons increase,
And the great ages onward roll.
Memory, the warder of the brain.
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
Morn of toil nor night of waking.
Thou hast been called, O sleep! the friend of woe;
But 't is the happy that have called thee so.
Memory, the warder of the brain.
Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet!
Nothing comes to thee new or strange.
Sleep full of rest from head to feet;
Lie still, dry dust, secure of change.
The timely dew of sleep.
I will not give sleep to mine eyes, or slumber to mine eyelids.
Philips, whose touch harmonious could remove
The pangs of guilty power and hapless love!
Rest here, distressed by poverty no more;
Here find that calm thou gav'st so oft before;
Sleep undisturb'd within this peaceful shrine,
Till angels wake thee with a note like thine!
Now morn, her rosy steps in th' eastern clime
Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl,
When Adam wak'd, so custom'd; for his sleep
Was aery light, from pure digestion bred.
Plough deep while sluggards sleep.
Why, let the stricken deer go weep,
The hart ungalled play;
For some must watch, while some must sleep:
So runs the world away.
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie.
Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep.
Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep.
