Sonnet 27

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,

The dear repose for limbs with travel tirèd;

But then begins a journey in my head

To work my mind, when body’s work’s expirèd:

For then my thoughts from far where I abide

Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,

And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,

Looking on darkness which the blind do see:

Save that my soul’s imaginary sight

Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,

Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,

Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.

Lo, thus by day my limbs, by night my mind,

For thee and for myself no quiet find.

Exhausted, I nearly collapse in my bed,

Seeking rest at night after so much work.

But a journey then begins in my head,

Just as arduous in the dark.

My thoughts wander off from where I’m lying

On a pilgrimage, zealous to find you,

And keep my eyes open, in blindness trying

To pursue what I cannot view.

Sometimes I imagine I see a jewel

Dangling in the night,

Chasing a memory of you in the cruel

Absence of the light.

So we find no peace, day or night:

My body, my mind, both desperate for respite.