When in the down I sink my head, Sleep, Death's twin-brother, times my breath; Sleep, Death's twin-brother, knows not Death, Nor can I dream of thee as dead. I walk as ere I walk'd forlorn, When all our path was fresh with dew, And all the bugle breezes blew Reveillee to the breaking morn. But what is this? I turn about, I find a trouble in thine eye, Which makes me sad I know not why, Nor can my dream resolve the doubt; But ere the lark hath left the lea I wake, and I discern the truth; It is the trouble of my youth That foolish sleep transfers to thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY by JOHN DRYDEN RHAPSODY ON A WINDY NIGHT by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT SONNET WRITTEN IN DISGUST OF VULGAR SUPERSTITION by JOHN KEATS SORROW by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE THE SEARCH (1) by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL |