Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867.
V. A Sleepless NightJohn Watson Dalby
T
Sleep could not quickly follow page so fine;
One—and strange figures filled my wakeful eye;
Two—and the lightning finds those eyes unclosed;
Three—and for no brief instant had I dozed;
Four—and slow morn did on the casement shine,
But where my strength for challenge so divine?
Five—still for slumber wholly indisposed
I on my restless pillow turn and twist,
Reaching a hopeful weariness by six;
And then all sense of outer objects missed,
I with the Cavaliers and Roundheads mix
Awhile, to rise an irate rogue, perplexed,
Vexing the house because myself am vexed.