A Sonnet (or short poem) from a collection written by William Shakespeare, published in 1609. 

#27

Synopsis:

In this first of two linked sonnets, the poet complains that the night, which should be a time of rest, is instead a time of continuing toil as, in his imagination, he struggles to reach his beloved.

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.

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

 For thee and for myself no quiet find.

(Project Gutenberg, Public Domain)