Sonnet 27: Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed

William Shakespeare 1564 (Stratford-upon-Avon) – 1616 (Stratford-upon-Avon)

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear respose for limbs with travel tirèd;
But then begins a journey in my head
To work my mind, when body's work's expirèd.
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.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare was an English playwright, poet, and actor, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's greatest dramatist. He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon". more…

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    "Sonnet 27: Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 20 Jan. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/41474/sonnet-27:-weary-with-toil,-i-haste-me-to-my-bed>.

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