Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
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
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
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