Weary With Toil

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed The dear repose for limbs with travel tired But then begins a journey in my head To work my mind, when body's work's expired For then my thoughts (From far where I abide) Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee And keep my drooping eyelids open wide Looking on darkness which the blind do see Save that my soul's Imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to My sightless view Which, like a jewel Hung in ghastly night Makes black night beauteous And her old face new Old face new Old face new How can I then return in happy plight That am debarred the benefit of rest? When day's oppression is not eased by night But day by night, and night by day, oppressed? And each, though enemies to either's reign Do in consent shake hands to torture me The one by toil, the other to complain How far I toil, still farther off from thee Lo, thus, by day my limbs By night my mind For thee, and for myself No quiet find No Quiet find Save that my soul's Imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to My sightless view Which, like a jewel Hung in ghastly night Makes black night beauteous And her old face Save that my soul's Imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to My sightless view Which, like a jewel Hung in ghastly night Makes black night beauteous And her old face new Old face new Old face Old face New