The table beckons me, "come",
Trouble yourself not to stride,
The beat of an ominous drum
Will summon a chariot ride
The midnight fast will cease,
The sleeping juice will pour,
And thence a swift release
Unto the voidless maw
And timeless is the drowse
Until the distant voice
Does summon me to rouse
And pray, with high rejoice,
To say, "all went as well
As it could be conceived",
Now rest thee for a spell,
Thy ailings are relieved
~~