The poem
It's mighty nice at shut of day With weariness to hit the hey, To close your eyes, tired through and through, And just forget that "you are you."
It's mighty sweet to wake again When sunshine floods the window pain; I love in cosy couch to lie, And re-discover "I am I."
It would be grand could we conceive A heaven in which to believe, And in a better life to be be, Find out with joy "we still are we."
Though we assume with lapsing breath Eternal is the sleep of death, Would it not be divinely odd To wake and find that - "God is God."