Now, weary, one by one we lay Aside the panoply of day; And, like to little children, creep Defenceless, to the arms of sleep. Our heads upon her bosom, soon Forgotten are the cares of noon, That, shorn of shadows, helpless lie As Samson in captivity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AND SO, I THINK DIOGENES by AMY LOWELL THREE SILENCES IN THAILAND by KAREN SWENSON THOSE EVENING BELLS by THOMAS MOORE THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: FEBRUARY by EDMUND SPENSER TO MICHAL: SONNETS AFTER MARRIAGE: 8. AFTER RONSARD by CHARLES WILLIAMS THE STORY OF FIORDISPINA, FR. ORLANDO FURIOSO by LUDOVICO (LODOVICO) ARIOSTO |