Classic Poem

As we drop downward we shall lose the moon
That in high heaven kept pace with us all night.
What matter? I am wearied of her light.

Between the crags we shall not see the sun
Kindle the fell-top with his earliest ray.
What matter though we slumber through the day?

What, lose the golden days the silver nights,
For which so eagerly we climbed the steep?
Love, I am weary, and I long for sleep.

Yet, rapt in slumber, we'll not even know,
Lost in blind dreams, that we together rest.
I only know sleep comes, and sleep is best.