Robert Herrick

To Music, to becalm his Fever

CHARM me asleep, and melt me so
    With thy delicious numbers,
That, being ravish'd, hence I go
    Away in easy slumbers.
            Ease my sick head,
            And make my bed,
    Thou power that canst sever
            From me this ill,
            And quickly still,
            Though thou not kill
                My fever.

Thou sweetly canst convert the same
    From a consuming fire
Into a gentle licking flame,
    And make it thus expire.
            Then make me weep
            My pains asleep;
And give me such reposes
            That I, poor I,
            May think thereby
            I live and die
                'Mongst roses.

Fall on me like the silent dew,
    Or like those maiden showers
Which, by the peep of day, do strew
    A baptim o'er the flowers.
            Melt, melt my pains
            With thy soft strains;
That, having ease me given,
            With full delight
            I leave this light,
            And take my flight
                For Heaven.