Sleep is supposed to be

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Sleep is supposed to be,
By souls of sanity,
The shutting of the eye.

Sleep is the station grand
Down which on either hand
The hosts of witness stand!

Morn is supposed to be,
By people of degree,
The breaking of the day.

Morning has not occurred!
That shall aurora be
East of eternity;

One with the banner gay,
One in the red array, --
That is the break of day.

More poems by Emily Dickinson

I envy seas whereon he rides, / I envy spokes of wheels

I had been hungry all the years; / My noon had come, to dine;

The bat is dun with wrinkled wings / Like fallow article,

The grave my little cottage is, / Where, keeping house for thee,