VI - To Sleep

  A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by,
  One after one; the sound of rain, and bees
  Murmuring; 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 lie
  Sleepless; and soon the small birds' melodies
  Must 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!