I cannot sleep, the night is hot and empty, My thoughts leave nothing lovely in my heart, You love me, and I love you, life is passing, We are apart. The August moonlight vibrates with the voices Of insects and their passions frail and shrill -- Oh from what whips, oh from what secret scourgings All of earth's children bow before her will. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SEVEN TWILIGHTS: 7 by CONRAD AIKEN A MINOR POET by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET NAMING FOR LOVE by HAYDEN CARRUTH SUGGESTED BY THE COVER OF A VOLUME OF KEATS'S POEMS by AMY LOWELL CAMOMILE TEA by KATHERINE MANSFIELD VERY EARLY SPRING by KATHERINE MANSFIELD TOWARD THE GULF; DEDICATED TO THEODORE ROOSEVELT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |