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