Verse > Anthologies > Hunt and Lee, eds. > The Book of the Sonnet
Hunt and Lee, comps.  The Book of the Sonnet.  1867.
V. A Sleepless Night
By John Watson Dalby
TWELVE—but Macaulay had but now been closed;
Sleep could not quickly follow page so fine;
One—and strange figures filled my wakeful eye;
Two—and the lightning finds those eyes unclosed;
Three—and for no brief instant had I dozed;        5
Four—and slow morn did on the casement shine,
But where my strength for challenge so divine?
Five—still for slumber wholly indisposed
I on my restless pillow turn and twist,
Reaching a hopeful weariness by six;        10
And then all sense of outer objects missed,
I with the Cavaliers and Roundheads mix
  Awhile, to rise an irate rogue, perplexed,
  Vexing the house because myself am vexed.

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