ONE Night all tyred wth ye weary Day, And wth my tedious selfe, I went to lay My fruitlesse Cares And needlesse feares Asleep. The Curtaines of ye Bed, & of mine Eyes Being drawne, I hop'd no trouble would surprise That Rest wch now Gan on my Brow To creep. When loe a little flie, lesse then its Name (It was a Gnat) with angry Murmur came. About Shee flew, And lowder grew Whilst I Faine would have scorn'd ye silly Thing, & slept Out all its Noise; I resolute silence kept, And laboured so To overthrow The Flie But still wth sharp Alarms vexatious Shee Or challenged, or rather mocked Mee. Angry at last About I cast My Hand. 'Twas well Night would not let me blush, nor see With whom I fought; And yet though feeble Shee Nor Her nor my Owne Wrath could I Command. Away She flies, & Her owne Triumph sings; I being left to fight with idler Things, A feebler pair My Selfe and Aire. How true A worme is Man, whom flies their sport can make! Poor worme; true Rest in no Bed can he take, But one of Earth, Whence He came forth And grew. For there None but his silent Sisters be, Wormes of as true & genuine Earth as He, Which from ye same Corruption came: And there Though on his Eyes they feed, though on his Heart They neither vex nor wake Him; every part Rests in sound sleep, And out doth keep All feare. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 2. LOS CIGARILLOS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE LOVER PLEADS WITH HIS FRIENDS FOR OLD FRIENDS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ON THE BUILDING OF SPRINGFIELD by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY TO ONE SHORTLY TO DIE by WALT WHITMAN THE FESTUBERT SHRINE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN KING AND PEOPLE by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB GOB-NY-USHTEY (WATER'S MOUTH) by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |