|
|
| Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, | 1 |
|
|
| The dear respose for limbs with travel tir'd; |
|
|
| But then begins a journey in my head |
|
|
| To work my mind, when body's work's expired: |
|
|
| For then my thoughts—from far where I abide— | 5 |
|
|
| Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, |
|
|
| And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, |
|
|
| Looking on darkness which the blind do see: |
|
|
| Save that my soul's imaginary sight |
|
|
| Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, | 10 |
|
|
| Which, like a jewel (hung in ghastly night, |
|
|
| Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new. |
|
|
 Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind, |
|
|
| For thee, and for myself, no quiet find. |
|
|
