FANTASTIC Sleep is busy with my eyes: I seem in some waste solitude to stand Once ruled of Cheops: upon either hand A dark illimitable desert lies, Sultry and still -- a realm of mysteries; A wide-browed Sphinx, half buried in the sand, With orbless sockets stares across the land, The woefulest thing beneath these brooding skies, Where all is woeful, weird-lit vacancy. 'T is neither midnight, twilight, nor moonrise. Lo! while I gaze, beyond the vast sand-sea The nebulous clouds are downward slowly drawn, And one bleared star, faint-glimmering like a bee, Is shut in the rosy outstretched hand of Dawn. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINES FROM A PLUTOCRATIC POETASTER TO A DITCH-DIGGER by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS DINNER IN A QUICK LUNCH ROOM by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THE FLOWER BOAT by ROBERT FROST THE LEAVES OF THE TREE HIDE THE SUN by DAVID IGNATOW |