I pray you, what ’s asleep?
  The lily-pads, and riffles, and the reeds;
No longer inward do the waters creep,
  No longer outwardly their force recedes,
And widowed Night, in blackness wide and deep,
  Resumes her weeds.

I pray you, what ’s awake?
  A host of stars, the long, long milky way
That stretches out, a glistening...