Astrophil and Stella, Sonnet 96

Thought, with good cause thou lik’st so well the night,
     Since kind or chance gives both one livery;
     Both sadly black, both blackly darkened be,
Night barred from sun, thou from thy own sun’s light.
Silence in both displays his sullen might;
     Slow heaviness in both holds one degree;
     That full of doubts, thou of perplexity;
Thy tears express night’s native moisture right.
     In both a mazeful solitariness:
In night, of sprites the ghastly powers stir,
In thee, or sprites or sprited ghastliness.
But, but, alas, night’s side the odds hath far,
     For that at length yet doth invite some rest,
     Thou, though still tired, yet still dost it detest.