When we are asleep, at rest and asleep,
Where do our thoughts and wishes keep?
Where is memory's dreaming-bed,
And where does love lay down her head,
And hope, and happiness, and sorrow?
Where do they go until to-morrow?
Do they sleep? Do they rest?
O crowding knowledge, close compressed
In the many-folded brain,
What ghostly bound, what exquisite chain
Holds you and binds you in till day?
Binds you fast, lest you drift away.