All night I dream you love me well, All day I dream that you are cold; Which is the dream? ah, who can tell, Ah, would that it were told. So should I know my certain doom, Know all the gladness or the pain; So pass into the dreamless tomb, Or never doubt again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PEDANTIC LITERALIST by MARIANNE MOORE WHEN THE SPEED COMES by ROBERT FROST ONE OF THE LEAST OF THESE, MY LITTLE ONE' by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON GUARDIANSHIP by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON MEMORY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |