The hour between night and day. The hour between toss and turn. The hour of thirty-year-olds. The hour swept clean for rooster's crowing. The hour when the earth takes back its warm embrace. The hour of cool drafts from extinguished stars. The hour of do-we-vanish-too-without-a-trace. Empty hour. Hollow. Vain. Rock bottom of all the other hours. No one feels fine at four a.m. If ants feel fine at four a.m., we're happy for the ants. And let five a.m. come if we've got to go on living. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MEETING AT NIGHT by ROBERT BROWNING THE PESSIMIST by BENJAMIN FRANKLIN KING A SONG OF LIFE by ABRAHAM IBN EZRA THE CASE OF SABRINA SIMPSON USCH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE MORAL FABLES: THE TALE OF THE TWO MICE by AESOP DESTINY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |