To sleep, perchance to dream-
ay, there’s the rub,
Albeit troubled by the down
Of Satan’s ass this hotel deigns to dub
A pillow,
As if by naming it so
Those properties inherent
We expect to find
Would become apparent,
A cradle for our neck and shoulders,
Our troubled mind,
As if packing hell into a case of white
Would make it alright,
Would lead us astray
So that we then could say
A pillow, or a rose,
by any other name is just as sweet,
Though we know this analogy
To be incomplete,
For it does not encompass that we feel,
Yet cannot directly see,
The essence of quality,
From a hotel we deserve
Should it serve
To meet us in our earthly and ethereal stream,
To help us sleep,
Ay, and perchance to dream.