Sonnet for a sleeping beauty

My sweet has slumber quickly come upon her;
It falls a-sudden whilst my heart awaits
Her word, her every thought this quiet night.
Should I wonder ill, or loss infer
Through this absence sorely felt so late?
Or greet her news but well at morning's light?
Such malade of sleep disrupts the flow
Of talk about her soul, her eyes, her touch,
Her taste upon my lips and even more.
Alas, her rhythms lost, she must but go
And dream before I can but write as much
As praise for her that I do so adore.
But oh, where might she lay her head to rest?
Wouldst it be upon my heavy chest.