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

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,The dear respose for limbs with travel tirèd;But then begins a journey in my headTo 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 sightPresents thy shadow to my sightless

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