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Title: L'envoi (from "Familiar Faces")
Author: Harry Graham [
More Titles by Graham]
Go, little book, and coyly creep
Beneath the pillows of the blest,
Whence those who seek in vain for sleep
Shall drag thee from thy nest;
That so thy sedative aroma
May lull them to a state of coma.
The infant child who lies awake,
Within its tiny trundle-bed,
No soothing potion needs to take,
If thou art duly read;
And hosts of harassed monthly nurses
Shall bless thy soporific verses.
The invalid who cannot rest
Has but at thy contents to glance
To hug thee to his fevered breast
And fall into a trance;
And sleepless patients without number
Shall hail thee harbinger of slumber.
Go then, fond offspring of the Muse,
Perform thy deadly work by night,
Thou rich man's boon, thou widow's cruse,
Thou orphan-child's delight!
Appease the heirs from all the ages
With balm from thine hypnotic pages!
So in the palace of the king,
The mansion of the millionaire,
Thy readers shall combine to sing
Thy praises ev'rywhere,
Till folks in less exalted places
Scream loudly for Familiar Faces!
(When, if their cries are shrill and healthy,
I shall become extremely wealthy!)
[The end]
Harry Graham's poem: L'envoi (from "Familiar Faces")
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