Great Regulars: Insomnia steals into our domestic nest

and tears it to tatters.

Sleep is the "blessed barrier between the day and day," a wall of protection rather than an obstacle. Sleep is sanctuary. Yet even as Wordsworth imagines repose, the heavy ‘b’ and ‘d’ sounds in the sentence are like a series of hammer blows falling on his brain.

Sleep is a "mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health." Indeed, without our nightly ascent into unreason, our mind becomes dry and stale, our well-being suffers and joy vanishes. Poetry too, as a form of waking dream, is powerfully restorative.

from Christopher Nield: The Epoch Times: The Antidote--Classic Poetry for Modern Life: A Reading of 'To Sleep' by William Wordsworth

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