That hems the Exile's cottage round;
All these, but most of all the power
Of sleep after an anxious day,
Up-stairs had hurried him away.
He paced his chamber for an hour,
Then said he, "This, indeed, is dreary,
My Times, my Punch," he said,
"Without you I am always weary;
I'll tumble into bed."
Punch, January 22, 1848.