How to Sleep

Child m the womb,
Or saint on a tomb - 
Which way shall I lie 
To fall asleep?
The keen moon stares 
From the back of the sky,
The clouds are all home 
Like driven sheep.

Bright drops of time,
One and two chime,
I turn and he straight 
With folded hands, 
Convent-child, Pope,
They choose this state,
And their minds are wiped calm 
As sea-levelled sands.

So my thoughts are.
But sleep stays as far,
Till I crouch on one side 
Like a foetus again - 
For sleeping, like death,
Must be won without pride, 
With a nod from nature,
With a lack of strain,
And a loss of stature