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...MARSHALL WASHER by HAYDEN CARRUTH ROMANCE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO MARY CHURCH TERRELL - LECTURER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON VASHTI by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON TO J. D. H. (KILLED AT SURREY C. H., OCTOBER, 1866) by SIDNEY LANIER TO-MORROW TO FRESH WOODS AND PASTURES NEW' by AMY LOWELL |