Sonnet 27
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 seeSave that my soul's imaginary sightPresents 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.
I can't sleep, though my body's quite tired,for my mind recalls nights since transpired.It seems when you're away,I'm kept up (so to say)by the thoughts that your presence inspired.