When courted least, it lingers still.
With its vagaries long perplext,
I turned and turned my restless sconce,
Till, one fine night, I thought at once
I’d master it. So hear my text.
When sleep doth tarry, I begin
My long and well-accustomed prayer,
And in a twinkling sleep is there,
Through my bed-curtains peeping in.
When sleep hangs heavy on my eyes,