IT is late And the clock is striking thin hours, But sleep has become a terror to me, Lest I wake in the night Bewildered, And stretching out my arms to comfort myself with you, Clasp instead the cold body of the darkness. All night it will hunger over me, And push and undulate against me, Breathing into my mouth And passing long fingers through my drifting hair. Only the dawn can loose me from it, And the gray streaks of morning melt it from my side. Bring many candles, Though they stab my tired brain And hurt it. For I am afraid of the twining of the darkness And dare not sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COMFORT by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE WANDER-LOVERS by RICHARD HOVEY THE HOUSE OF LIFE: THE SONNET (INTRODUCTION) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI AMONG THE HEATHER by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM I HAVE PRAYED by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS GREEK POETESSES by ANTIPATER OF THESSALONICA EPITAPH ON SUSANNAH BARBAULD MARISSAL by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |