Sleep I cannot find, nor light: Everywhere is dark and slumber, Only weary tickings number The slow hours of the night. Parca, jabbering, woman-fashion, Sleeping night, without compassion, Life, who stirs like rustling mice, Why encage me in thy vise? Why the whispering insistence,— Art thou but the pale persistence Of a day departed twice? What black failures dost thou reckon? Dost thou prophesy or beckon? I would know whence thou art sprung, I would study thy dark tongue ... | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TUOL SLENG: POL POT'S PRISON by KAREN SWENSON CARILLON by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE CORAL GROVE by JAMES GATES PERCIVAL TO MR. MONTGOMERY; OCCASIONED BY ... ATTACK ON HIS POEMS by LUCY AIKEN THE LONE BUTTE by EVA K. ANGLESBURG CROMEK SPEAKS by WILLIAM BLAKE BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. THE THIRD SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |