The Land of Sleep
The Land of Sleep is hard to reach
When you set out from Not Tired Beach.
Ahead stretch miles and miles of night,
But Slumber Point is not in sight.
Deep in the woods of Wide Awake,
You thresh around. Which path to take?
You try the route of Tranquil Thought,
But all your efforts come to nought.
Perhaps a book? The clock tolls one,
Too tired to read, you soldier on.
For hours, your thoughts and sleep contend;
God, will this journey never end?
As first light dawns, you sense a calm,
A peaceful, drowsy, healing balm.
Dozing, you drift through misty vales,
Stark wakefulness no more prevails,
Soft breezes blow, cool willows weep,
But just before the Gulf of Sleep,
One more shape looms, to your dismay:
Alas, it's Time To Get Up Bay.