The moonlight touched the sombre waters white. Beneath the bridge 'twas darker. Was she cold? She shivered. Her poor shawl was worn and old, And she was desolate, and it was night. The slow canal crept onward; to her sight It seemed to beckon, and the lapping told Of rest and quiet sleep: how sweet to fold The hands from toil and close the eyes from light, And so shut out all memory, and go There where men sleep, and dreams, perhaps, are not. O never any dreams, she murmured; so, Longing for sleep, the sleep that comes with death, She fell, she felt the water, and forgot All, save the drowning agony of breath. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SNOW-STORM by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE WILL OF GOD by FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER EPODE: 2. THE PRAISES OF A COUNTRY LIFE by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS CAELIA: SONNETS: 11 by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) EPITAPH ON MRS. ANNE PRIDEAUX, DAUGHTER OF DR. PRIDEAUX by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |