Shakespeare's Sonnets: Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,The dear repose for limbs with travail tired,But then begins a journey in my headTo work my mind, when body's work's expired.For then my thoughts (from far where I abide)Intend a zealous pilgrimage to theeAnd keep my drooping eye-lids open wide,Looking on darkness which the blind do see,Save that my soul's imaginary sightPresents their shadow to my sightless view,Which like a jewel (hung in ghastly night)Makes black night beaut'ous, and her old face new. Lo thus by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for my self, no quiet find.