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6.

TO SLEEP.

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by,One after one; the sound of rain, and beesMurmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas,Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky;I've thought of all by turns; and still I lieSleepless; and soon the small birds melodiesMust hear, first utter'd from my orchard trees;And the first Cuckoo's melancholy cry.Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay,And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth:So do not let me wear to night away:Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth?Come, blessed barrier betwixt day and day,Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
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