Morpheus and Iris, Pierre-Narcisse Guerin, 1811 SANDS OF MORPHEUSEric Knickerbocker
Oratory:
He became one with the night.
He unfurls his wings of sparkling light.
In mortals dreams he doth fight.
Master of matchless dreams—Morpheus!Lying in bed, waiting for dream.
Breath coming slower, as it would seem.
The woman in waiting, lids slowly meeting,
Awaits the touch of Morpheus’s greeting.
Morpheus, master of matchless dreams,
Silently gliding through moonlit beams.
Deftly, his fingers begin to weave:
Ivory dreams beneath the loom leave.The first stage is complete, flawlessly wove.
Enchanted she floats across the vast sea and cove.
Gliding under, she reaches the point.
Fantasy and reality intertwined—joint.
(Chorus)
He takes her gently by her hand,
And leads her through the cove’s band.
On this side, she’s free of earthly demands
In this gallant land that Morpheus commands.
(Chorus)
She’ll tarry awhile, for short hours her stay,
And then he guides her back along the way.
She awakes on the morn with renewed vim and vigor,
While only traces of Morpheus’ dream world linger.
(Chorus)
Oratory:
Nightmare or daydream is his to command:
Infinite dreamscapes in his pouch of sand. 
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