Page:Foliage, various poems.djvu/39



hear the bell of midnight toll,

And shiver in their flesh and soul;

They lie on hard, cold wood or stone,

Iron, and ache in every bone;

They hate the night: they see no eyes

Of loved ones in the starlit skies.

They see the cold, dark water near;

They dare not take long looks for fear

They'll fall like those poor birds that see

A snake's eyes staring at their tree.

Some of them laugh, half-mad; and some

All through the chilly night are dumb;

Like poor, weak infants some converse,

And cough like giants, deep and hoarse.