My birthday -- yesterday, Its hours were twenty-four; Four hours I lived lukewarm, And killed a score. I woke eight times and rose, Came to our fire below, Then sat four hours and watched Its sullen glow. Then out four hours I walked, The lukewarm four I live, And felt no other joy Than air can give. My mind durst know no thought, It knew my life too well: 'Twas hell before, behind, And round me hell. Back to that fire again, Ten hours I watch it now, And take to bed dim eyes, And fever's brow. Ten hours I give to sleep, More than my need, I know; But I escape my mind And that fire's glow. For listen: it is death To watch that fire's glow; For, as it burns more red Men paler grow. O better in foul room That's warm, make life away, Than homeless out of doors, Cold night and day. Pile on the coke, make fire, Rouse its death-dealing glow; Men are borne dead away Ere they can know. I lie; I cannot watch Its glare from hour to hour; It makes one sleep, to wake Out of my power. I close my eyes and swear It shall not wield its power; No use, I wake to find A murdered hour. Lying between us there! That fire drowsed me deep, And I wrought murder's deed -- Did it in sleep. I count us, thirty men, Huddled from Winter's blow, Helpless to move away From that fire's glow. So goes my life each day -- Its hours are twenty-four -- Four hours I live lukewarm, And kill a score. No man lives life so wise But unto Time he throws Morsels to hunger for At his life's close. Were all such morsels heaped -- Time greedily devours, When man sits still -- he'd mourn So few wise hours. But all my day is waste, I live a lukewarm four And make a red coke fire Poison the score. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ANNE by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE THIRTY EIGHT. ADDRESSED TO MRS. H -- Y. by CHARLOTTE SMITH QUATRAIN: FROM EASTERN SOURCES: 2 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH BEVERLY SHORE IN WINTER by THOMAS GOLD APPLETON THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS by JAMES BEATTIE |