Which, as we live not conscious how ’tis earn’d,
We live not conscious how it may be lost.
Things out of consciousness are out of care.
We rest not as in death that furthers naught;
We rest as in a dream, in sleep,—a state
Wherein God watches while the soul regales.
We rest not from the healthful stir of work,
But from the slavery proportioning
Our pleasure to our pain—a law for serfs,
But not for sons. Our rest is peaceful, hush’d,