IN what a strange bewilderment do we A wake each morn from out the brief night's sleep. Our struggling consciousness doth grope and creep Its slow way back, as if it could not free Itself from bonds unseen. Then Memory, Like sudden light, outflashes from its deep The joy or grief which it had last to keep For us; and by the joy or grief we see We are unchanged; our life the same we knew Before. I wonder if this is the way We wake from death's short sleep, to struggle through A brief bewilderment, and in dismay Behold our life unto our old life true. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CORONATION by HELEN MARIA HUNT FISKE JACKSON WINTERTIME by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON SONNETS FROM SERIES RELATING TO EDGAR ALLEN POE: 1 by SARAH HELEN POWER WHITMAN AN OLD CASTLE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |