Verse > William Wordsworth > Complete Poetical Works
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TO SLEEP

          O GENTLE SLEEP! do they belong to thee,
          These twinklings of oblivion? Thou dost love
          To sit in meekness, like the brooding Dove,
          A captive never wishing to be free.
          This tiresome night, O Sleep! thou art to me
          A Fly, that up and down himself doth shove
          Upon a fretful rivulet, now above
          Now on the water vexed with mockery.
          I have no pain that calls for patience, no;
          Hence am I cross and peevish as a child:                    10
          Am pleased by fits to have thee for my foe,
          Yet ever willing to be reconciled:
          O gentle Creature! do not use me so,
          But once and deeply let me be beguiled.
                                                              1806.


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