WHEN trade and traffic and all the noise of town Is dimmed, and on the streets and squares The filmy curtain of the night sinks down With sleep, the recompense of cares, To me the darkness brings nor sleep nor rest. A pageant of the torturing hours Drags its slow course, and, writhing in my breast, A fanged snake my heart devours. My fears take form, and on the wearied brain Grief comes, in waves that overflow, And Memory turns a scroll to tell again A legend that too well I know. Reading the past with horror, shame, and dread, I tremble and I curse, But the repentant tears, the bitter tears I shed Will not wash out a single verse. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEAF HOUSE AGENT by KATHERINE MANSFIELD ADELAIDE CRAPSEY by CARL SANDBURG NO SONGS IN WINTER by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SATIRE: 6 by AULUS PERSIUS FLACCUS PROLOGUE TO THE PLAY OF HENRY THE EIGHTH by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SWORD AND BUCKLER; OR, SERVING-MAN'S DEFENCE: TO THE READER by WILLIAM BASSE |