To My Coy Bed

Had we but world enough and time,

This coyness, sweet bed, were no crime.

We would lie down, and think which dreams

To dream, and rest my aching body.

 

I would lie in you ten years before the Creation,

And you, if you please, comfort

Till the perfect circle is drawn.

My exponential snore should grow,

Louder than megaphones and more deep.

 

But in my dream I always hear,

Time’s beeping clock dinging more;

And yonder all before us lie

School, sports and clubs,

Thy relaxation shall no more be found.

 

Now, therefore, while the warm slumber,

Echoes in thy bones and muscles,

Now let us sleep while we may,

And now, like yawning sloths,

Rather slowly our doze devour.

Thus, though we cannot make our sun

Stand still, we will snooze our clocks.

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