'Tis five of the clock and the birds are waking; The breeze steals in so fresh and pure; Slumber, sweet, has at last enswathed me— "'Tis time to take your temperature." 'Tis six of the clock and the morn is breaking; The glorious sun rides up apace; The arms of Morpheus again are calling— But now it's time to wash one's face. 'Tis seven o'clock but amid the bustle My spirit wings toward Slumber's gates, When, lo, a voice at my side arouses And tells me that my breakfast waits. Her eyes are bright; her face is smiling; Fit theme for most enchanting verse; Her role it is to keep one from sleeping— The cheery, sweet hospital nurse. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OLD BLACK MEN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IN THE RANGITAKI VALLEY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: LYMAN KING by EDGAR LEE MASTERS IN THE TRENCHES by RICHARD ALDINGTON WOODSMOKE AT 70 by HAYDEN CARRUTH THREE SONNETS by RICHARD WILBUR |