Sleep - Clare Wilkinson, Fretwork

Come Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving,

Look me in de-light a-while.

Let some pleasing dreams beguile,

all my fancies, that from thence,

There may steal an in-fluence.

Oh, all my pow’rs of care bereaving.

Though but a shadow, but a sliding,

Let me know some little joy!

We that suffer long annoy

Are contented with a thought!

Through an idle fancy wrought.

O let my joys, have some a-biding.

(Extro)