'T is late at night, and in the realm of sleep
       &nbsp My little lambs are folded like the flocks;
       &nbsp From room to room I hear the wakeful clocks
       &nbsp Challenge the passing hour, like guards that keep
Their solitary watch on tower and steep;
       &nbsp Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks,
       &nbsp And through the opening door that time unlocks
       &nbsp Feel the fresh breathing of To-morrow creep.
To-morrow! the mysterious, unknown guest,
       &nbsp Who cries to me: "Remember Barmecide,
       &nbsp And tremble to be happy with the rest."
And I make answer: "I am satisfied;
       &nbsp I dare not ask; I know not what is best;
       &nbsp God hath already said what shall betide."