Thou sleepest fast and I with woeful heart Stand here alone, sighing, and cannot fly. Thou sleepest fast when cruel love his dart On me doth cast, alas, so painfully. Thou sleepest fast and I, all full of smart, To thee, my foe, in vain do call and cry. And yet, methinks, thou that sleepest fast, Thou dreamest still which way my life to waste. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOONRISE by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE EPITAPH IN FORM OF A BALLAD by FRANCOIS VILLON BOB CRUIKSHANKS by ALEXANDER ANDERSON STANZAS TO WILLIAM ROSCOE, ESQ. by BERNARD BARTON PORTRAIT SONNETS: 3 by HENRY BELLAMANN |