Sleep

Sleep is no servant of the will, It has caprices of its own: When most pursued,--'tis swiftly gone; When courted least, it lingers still. With its vagaries long perplext, I turned and turned my restless sconce, Till one bright night, I thought at once I'd master it; so hear my text! When sleep will tarry, I begin My long and my accustomed prayer; And in a twinkling sleep is there, Through my bed-curtains peeping in. When sleep hangs heavy on my eyes, I think of debts I fain would pay; And then, as flies night's shade from day, Sleep from my heavy eyelids flies. And thus controlled the winged one bends Ev'n his fantastic will to me; And, strange, yet true, both I and he Are friends,--the very best of friends. We are a happy wedded pair, And I the lord and she the dame; Our bed--our board--our hours the same, And we're united everywhere. I'll tell you where I learnt to school This wayward sleep:--a whispered word From a church-going hag I heard, And tried it--for I was no fool. So from that very hour I knew That having ready prayers to pray, And having many debts to pay, Will serve for sleep and waking too.