Sonnet 27
b"
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired,
But then begins a journey in my head
To work my mind, when body's work's expired;
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.
\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0 Lo thus by day my limbs, by night my mind,
\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0 For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.