A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by
One after one; the sound of rain and bees
Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas,
Smooth fields, white sheets of water and pure sky;--
I've thought of all by turns and still I lie
Sleepless; and soon the small birds' melodies
Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees,
And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry.
Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay
And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth:
So do not let me wear to-night away.
Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth?
Come, blessed barrier between night and day,
Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!