How kind is sleep, how merciful:
  That I last night have seen
The happy birds with bosoms pressed
  Against the leaves so green.

Sweet sleep, that made my mind forget
  My love had gone away;
And nevermore I'd touch her soft
  Warm body, night or day.

So, every night deceived by sleep,
  Let me on roses lie;
And leave the thorns of Truth for day,
  To pierce me till I die.