Classic Poem

My schedule twitches at my sleeve
And insolently bids me leave
All inappropriate delight,
As, dainty meadows that invite.
And pleasant birds that idly sing,
And friends divinely gossiping,
And banquets neatly set and choice,
A loving hand, a wooing voice
It lays a chilly touch on sleep
And will not even let me weep.—
Yet, though it does all this and more,
It is a mistress I adore.