William Wordsworth

To Sleep

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 have thought of all by turns, and yet do lie	      
Sleepless; and soon the small birds’ melodies	
Must hear, first utter’d 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 day and day,	
Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!

spoken = Susannah Wood