Wealth, Power, and Fame -- aye, even Love, 
  Are but an hour's delight, and go ; 
But Sleep's a blessing to hold fast 
  Till her warm dew becomes Death's snow ; 
All men that scorned Sleep in the past, 
  For any thing beneath the Sun, 
  Will rue it ere their life be done. 

Much it perplexed of late to know 
  What made my heart with joy so light ; 
Until I thought of how sweet Sleep 
  Did, for so many hours each night, 
Keep me in her delicious deep : 
  Charmed me each night with her sweet powers, 
  In one unbroken stretch of hours. 

All-powerful Sleep, thou canst give slaves 
  Kings for attendants ; and their straw 
Becomes in thy soft hands like down ; 
  Thou one real gem, without a flaw, 
That purely shineth in Life's crown ; 
  For Wealth, and Power, and Fame are paste, 
  That into common ashes waste.