A Dream of a Dream of Night
dreamed 1960s by Robert Watson.
Night won't leave me alone when I worn down
By Day who whips me through his hoops, his watch
In hand, when I undress for bed to read
In peace alone, Night pesters the door knob,
Stuffs sweet scented pollen under the sill,
And rubs her lips on my window whispering,
"Come out. Come out. I'm raring to go."
There was no right answer I could make to Night
It was late when I thought Night had gone.
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