When I go to sleep, I let fall the windows of mine eyes.
—Shakespeare.
1788
The sleep of a laboring man is sweet, whether he eat little or much: but the abundance of the rich will not suffer him to sleep.
—Eccles. v, 12v.
1789
Heaven trims our lamps while we sleep.
—Alcott.
1790
Sleep! to the homeless, thou art home,
The friendless find in thee a friend;
And well is, wheresoe'r he roams,
Who meets thee at his journey's end.