Sleep is no servant of the will,
It has caprices of its own:
When most pursued,--'tis swiftly gone;
When courted least, it lingers still.
With its vagaries long perplext,
I turned and turned my restless sconce,
Till one bright night, I thought at once
I'd master it; so hear my text!

When sleep will tarry, I begin
My long and my accustomed prayer;
And in a twinkling sleep is there,
Through my bed-curtains peeping in.
When sleep hangs heavy on my eyes,
I think of debts I fain would pay;
And then, as flies night's shade from day,
Sleep from my heavy eyelids flies.

And thus controlled the winged one bends
Ev'n his fantastic will to me;
And, strange, yet true, both I and he
Are friends,--the very best of friends.
We are a happy wedded pair,
And I the lord and she the dame;
Our bed--our board--our hours the same,
And we're united everywhere.

I'll tell you where I learnt to school
This wayward sleep:--a whispered word
From a church-going hag I heard,
And tried it--for I was no fool.
So from that very hour I knew
That having ready prayers to pray,
And having many debts to pay,
Will serve for sleep and waking too.