O sleep! You come in fits and starts
And this, I think, tires out my heart.
Though, in total, I acquire enough
It’s rarely sound, refreshing stuff
And leaves me rather woozy-headed
With eyes all hazy and tongue, leaded.
And so, I ask a favour now
To let me slumber for an hour
Uninterrupted, if I may
As my child and her father play
Quietly on the other floor
That I might nap behind closed doors.
[oh yeah. Way too much of A Child’s Garden of Verses, some of which takes me three tries to get through because the phrasing is so sketchy … or maybe it’s just the lack of sleep. and between him and the Ogden Nash, whooboy…]