Wattled, blink-eyed, rested upon a lilypad of ease;
Sunning beneath a golden sun,
basking beneath a frost-white moon;
Lolling, easeful, gazing at the stars,
he sits, hungered.
An instanst's whirl; a dantling fly---
seeketh and is gone;
How like to Wisdom.

Sleep is the field within which seeds spurt
beneath the share of waking.
The field in anguish receieveth the grain,
and sleep bequickens it.
Many's the wise man who write his dream
and believed his wit wert waked.
1924