<h2><SPAN name="chap51"></SPAN>OLD LIZETTE ON SLEEP</h2>
<p class="poem">
Bed is the boon for me!<br/>
It’s well to bake and sweep,<br/>
But hear the word of old Lizette:<br/>
It’s better than all to sleep.<br/>
<br/>
Summer and flowers are gay,<br/>
And morning light and dew;<br/>
But aged eyelids love the dark<br/>
Where never a light peeps through.<br/>
<br/>
What!—open-eyed, my dears?<br/>
Thinking your hearts will break.<br/>
There’s nothing, nothing, nothing, I say,<br/>
That’s worth the lying awake!<br/>
<br/>
I learned it in my youth—<br/>
Love I was dreaming of!<br/>
I learned it from the needle-work<br/>
That took the place of love.<br/>
<br/>
I learned it from the years<br/>
And what they brought about;<br/>
From song, and from the hills of joy<br/>
Where sorrow sought me out.<br/>
<br/>
It’s good to dream and turn,<br/>
And turn and dream, or fall<br/>
To comfort with my pack of bones,<br/>
And know of nothing at all!<br/>
<br/>
Yes, never know at all!<br/>
If prowlers mew or bark,<br/>
Nor wonder if it’s three o’clock<br/>
Or four o’clock of the dark.<br/>
<br/>
When the longer shades have fallen<br/>
And the last weariness<br/>
Has brought the sweetest gift of life,<br/>
The last forgetfulness.<br/>
<br/>
If a sound as of old leaves<br/>
Stir the last bed I keep,<br/>
Then say, my dears: “It’s old Lizette—<br/>
She’s turning in her sleep!”<br/></p>
<p class="left">
AGNES LEE</p>
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