Quiet Sleep

I am of that which you even when blind through fingers see. And here it is where you sleep and rest moves off hope. The sky is open and wide, and lonely twin cresent the moon, is as deep as the waves above the white foamy sea. Everything from that of which I ask, is she the waiting song the wind of each long warm night. The high tide the water mark, walking across the green grass clear as glass see the boat? And everything which I ask for, has she been thus by for. Blankets of quiet sleep, and in sweet dreams when both reach the rocks after long.