I How intimate and yet how strange! How calm I am that never change. All day I think, as I abide, How many folk have in me died. II To sleep, to dream, to smile, to lie And still dream on as night goes by, It may be when thy time shall come It shall not seem more sad to die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BEFORE THE BIRTH OF ONE OF HER CHILDREN by ANNE BRADSTREET SNOW-FLAKES by MARY ELIZABETH MAPES DODGE THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 23. LOVE'S BAUBLES by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE MAID OF NEIDPATH by WALTER SCOTT THE MERMAID by ALFRED TENNYSON SUMMER NIGHT, RIVERSIDE by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS IN MEMORY OF AGOSTINO ISOLA, OF CAMBRIDGE, WHO DIED 1797 by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |