THE BALLAD OF THE YOUNG MAN, A NEW SCARRIET POEM

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Having courted sleep, to watch her go away,
She came to him unasked in the middle of the day.

“Why were you unkind in the channels of the night
When I longed to sail along beneath your dreams so bright?”

“Why were you not there when everything was still—
But the scratching of the wind by the window sill?”

“Why were you unloving when I was full of care,
With my bed and my pillow and all the darkness there?”

“I called for your comfort: where’s your arms, your shawl?
I called you every hour, past midnight and all.”

Sleep replied, “Young man, it is rude of you to blame
Sleep, who has no arms, Sleep, who has no name,

Sleep, who is but you when you have no strength to call
The one who really loves you, and you don’t love at all.”

Standing by the river, he thought about his sin,
When sleep came upon him, and he fell in.

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2 Comments

  1. R said,

    May 17, 2012 at 8:46 am

    I love you

  2. David said,

    May 18, 2012 at 5:58 am

    Tom, this is your best one since the beginning of the Madness. I really enjoyed it.

    David


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