IT is late And the clock is striking thin hours, But sleep has become a terror to me, Lest I wake in the night Bewildered, And stretching out my arms to comfort myself with you, Clasp instead the cold body of the darkness. All night it will hunger over me, And push and undulate against me, Breathing into my mouth And passing long fingers through my drifting hair. Only the dawn can loose me from it, And the gray streaks of morning melt it from my side. Bring many candles, Though they stab my tired brain And hurt it. For I am afraid of the twining of the darkness And dare not sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A MINUET ON REACHING THE AGE OF FIFTY by GEORGE SANTAYANA A FINE DAY ON LOUGH SWILLY by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1824-1911) MEROPE; A TRAGEDY by MATTHEW ARNOLD SAY NO MORE OF ME by ANNA EMILIA BAGSTAD OCTOBER by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE PAINTED CUP by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |