Pensées de la nuit

At such a time, lying in the dark,
My gorge like Hamlet’s rises
And I dream of rough seas
And all the toils and troubles
That this flesh is heir to;
And, perplexed, bestir myself:
Sit at the edge of the bed
And face my troubles calmly
With single handheld light
To penetrate the dark,
Give substance to the room,
And doing so, dissolve
These demons that
So beset my slumber.
Then contemplation comes
And soothes my fevered brow;
Soon, rest, and words
That flow onto the page
Under the cyclopean light
In which scurry exploratory
Millers and my pen.
Soon, peace, then comforting
Gentle hands of my love
Soothe and lull my back
To the sleeves of easeful sleep.