Classic Poem

I' VE lost my taste for things somehow
That on a time were very sweet:
Sin has no savor for me now,—
I find no apples good to eat:
You laugh, and say that I'm effete,
But you are on the way, my friend,
And after me you'll soon repeat:
Sleep is the best thing in the end.

Yet I come not with sour intent
Against my old desires to prate:
Truly I do not repent,
I only wish I knew some great
Exultant vice to stimulate
What spark of Life remains to spend:
But this I feel, as the hour grows late,
Sleep is the best thing in the end.

All things wear out, so much we see:
All things must fall without reprieve:
Yet spite of that invincibly
Upon the brink I still believe
That God has hidden up his sleeve
For us some golden dividend:
What think you then we shall receive?
Sleep is the best thing in the end.

Brother, down on a soundless bed
From the ways of pain may we descend!
The stars creep dimly overhead:—
Sleep is the best thing in the end.