All night long I hear the sleepers toss Between the darkened window and the wall. The madman's whimper and the lover's voice, The worker's whisper and the sick child's call -- Knowing them all I'd walk a mile, maybe, hearing some cat Crying its guts out, to throttle it by hand, Such simple love I had. I wished I might -- Or God might -- answer each call in person and Each poor demand. Well, I'd have been better off sleeping myself. These fancies had some sentimental charm, But love without direction is a cheap blanket And even if it did no one any harm, No one is warm. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: NOVEMBER by EDMUND SPENSER CIRCUS AT NIGHT by MADELEINE AARON AN ARAB WELCOME by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH IN ANSWER TO QUESTION FROM GREEK GRAMMAR: WHAT FUTURES SPEAK by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD TO SARAH TAYLOR by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE PURSUIT by HENRY BELLAMANN THE IDEAL by ANNE CHARLOTTE LYNCH BOTTA |