I cannot sleep, there is no rest for me.
I struggle vainly to stave off the night –
I rise and go where I can sit and think
And seek the solace of my reading light.

For many are the pages in my thoughts,
And myriad the worries of my shelves:
But there, beside the steady gleaming light
If find the single self inside my selves.

For nothing reads as a poorly as a brain
That’s separated from itself and sleep;
To jump around in pools of consciousness,
Confused and with strange company to keep

But there’s a friend for me, and faithfully,
A solace in my old, familiar chair —
And night must take its dinner somewhere else;
I checked, and still
My reading light
Is there