| "GOD bless the man who first invented sleep!" | |
| So Sancho Panza said, and so say I: | |
| And bless him, also, that he did n't keep | |
| His great discovery to himself; nor try | |
| To make it—as the lucky fellow might— | 5 |
| A close monopoly by patent-right! | |
| |
| Yes; bless the man who first invented sleep | |
| (I really can't avoid the iteration), | |
| But blast the man, with curses loud and deep, | |
| Whate'er the rascal's name, or age, or station, | 10 |
| Who first invented, and went round advising, | |
| That artificial cut-off, Early Rising! | |
| |
| "Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed," | |
| Observes some solemn, sentimental owl; | |
| Maxims like these are very cheaply said; | 15 |
| But, ere you make yourself a fool or fowl, | |
| Pray just inquire about his rise and fall, | |
| And whether larks have any beds at all! | |
| |
| The time for honest folks to be a-bed | |
| Is in the morning, if I reason right; | 20 |
| And he who cannot keep his precious head | |
| Upon his pillow till it 's fairly light, | |
| And so enjoy his forty morning winks, | |
| Is up to knavery; or else—he drinks! | |
| |
| Thomson, who sung about the "Seasons," said | 25 |
| It was a glorious thing to rise in season; | |
| But then he said it—lying—in his bed, | |
| At ten o'clock A.M.,—the very reason | |
| He wrote so charmingly. The simple fact is, | |
| His preaching was n't sanctioned by his practice. | 30 |
| |
| 'T is, doubtless, well to be sometimes awake,— | |
| Awake to duty, and awake to truth,— | |
| But when, alas! a nice review we take | |
| Of our best deeds and days, we find, in sooth, | |
| The hours that leave the slightest cause to weep | 35 |
| Are those we passed in childhood or asleep! | |
| |
| 'T is beautiful to leave the world awhile | |
| For the soft visions of the gentle night; | |
| And free, at last, from mortal care or guile, | |
| To live as only in the angels' sight, | 40 |
| In sleep's sweet realm so cosily shut in, | |
| Where, at the worst, we only dream of sin! | |
| |
| So let us sleep, and give the Maker praise. | |
| I like the lad who, when his father thought | |
| To clip his morning nap by hackneyed phrase | 45 |
| Of vagrant worm by early songster caught, | |
| Cried, "Served him right!—it 's not at all surprising; | |
| The worm was punished, sir, for early rising!" | |
