INSOMNIA
33
Suns and moons with me,
As I’m homeward straying,
All in sympathy
Swaying, swaying, swaying.
Lord! I’ve got a head.
Well, it’s not surprising.
I must gain my bed
Ere the sun be rising;
When the merry lark
In the sky is soaring,
I’ll refuse to hark,
I’ll be snoring, snoring.
Strike a sulphur match…
Ha! at last my garret.
Fumble at the latch,
Close the door and bar it.
Bed, you graciously
Wait, despite my scorning…
So, bibaciously
Mad old world, good morning.
III
My Garret, Montparnasse,
April.
April.
INSOMNIA
Heigh ho! to sleep I vainly try;
Since twelve I haven’t closed an eye,
