Based on William Shakespeare’s Sonnet LXI
Is it thy will thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
While shadows of victory so mock my fight?
Is it thy spirit that thou send’st from thee
From the halfling’s heart, into my deeds to pry;
To find out shames and desperate hours in me,
The scope and tenor of my jealousy?
O no! thy draw, though much, is not so great;
It is my hope that keeps mine eye awake;
Mine own true desire that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy sake:
For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wait elsewhere,
Close to my hand, with others all-too-near.