Sleep

Come, sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving

Lock me in delight awhile;

Let some pleasing dream beguile

All my fancies, that from thence

I may feel an influence,

All my powers of care bereaving.

Tho' but a shadow, but a sliding,

Let me know some little joy.

We, that suffer long annoy,

Are contented with a thought

Thro' an idle fancy wrought:

O let my joys have some abiding.