I CAN no more mine eyes to sleep compose, And thou alone sweet orb of my unrest! Yet think not I would shrive thee from my breast, Nor lose one pearl of grief thy love bestows. Whilst thou, close-shelter'd like a folded rose, In spirit realms immeasurably blest, Art dreaming of a love thy tears caress'd, Unwistful of thy lover and his woes. Oh, would that I might tend thy tranquil sleep, And guard the passage of thine incensed breath!— To dwell upon thy breast's entrancing steep Were all of Heaven, and too much of Death— The heart that once had beat so near to thine Would stop for aye if sever'd from its shrine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING IN NEW HAMPSHIRE by CLAUDE MCKAY THE FIDDLING WOOD by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS VISION by HAYDEN CARRUTH TO -, WITH A ROSE by SIDNEY LANIER BRICKLAYER LOVE by CARL SANDBURG |