Thou Art Not Always Kind, O Sleep: What Awful Secrets Them Dost Keep In Store, And Ofttimes Make Us Know; What Hero Has Not Fallen Low In Sleep Before A Monster Grim, And Whined For Mercy Unto Him; Knights, Constables, And Men-At-Arms Have Quailed And Whined In Sleep'S Alarms. Thou Wert Not Kind Last Night To Make Me Like A Very Coward Shake, Shake Like A Thin Red-Currant Bush Robbed Of Its Fruit By A Strong Thrush. I Felt This Earth Did Move; More Slow, And Slower Yet Began To Go; And Not A Bird Was Heard To Sing, Men And Great Beasts Were Shivering; All Living Things Knew Well That When This Earth Stood Still, Destruction Then Would Follow With A Mighty Crash. 'Twas Then I Broke That Awful Hush: E'En As A Mother, Who Does Come Running In Haste Back To Her Home, And Looks At Once, And Lo, The Child She Left Asleep Is Gone; And Wild She Shrieks And Loud, So Did I Break With A Mad Cry That Dream, And Wake.