Now, weary, one by one we lay Aside the panoply of day; And, like to little children, creep Defenceless, to the arms of sleep. Our heads upon her bosom, soon Forgotten are the cares of noon, That, shorn of shadows, helpless lie As Samson in captivity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES ON LEAVING THE BEDFORD STR. SCHOOL HOUSE by GEORGE SANTAYANA SONNET TO A FRIEND WHO ASKED, HOW I FELT ... MY INFANT TO ME by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE SNOW-STORM by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE DYING SOLDIER by ISAAC ROSENBERG WHEN YOU ARE OLD by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS OLD SONGS by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |