BED is the boon¹ for me！ It's well to bake and sweep, But hear the word of old Lizette： It's better than all to sleep.

    Summer and flowers are gay, And morning light and dew； But aged² eyelids³ love the dark Where never a light peeps through.

    What！——open-eyed, my dears？ Thinking your hearts will break. There's nothing, nothing, nothing, I say, That's worth the lying awake！

    I learned it in my youth- Love I was dreaming of！ I learned it from the needle-work That took the place of love. I learned it from the years And what they brought about； >From song, and from the hills of joy Where sorrow sought me out.

    It's good to dream and turn, And turn and dream, or fall To comfort with my pack of bones, And know of nothing at all！

    Yes, never know at all！ If prowlers mew or bark, Nor wonder if it's three o'clock Or four o'clock of the dark.

    When the longer shades have fallen And the last weariness Has brought the sweetest gift of life, The last forgetfulness.

    If a sound as of old leaves Stir the last bed I keep, Then say, my dears： "It's old Lizette- She's turning in her sleep！"