I stood, a dread watchman, ‘fore all of the night
Asked, “Who among us would stand for the poor or the weary?
Who would take heed of the the sleepless, the Dreary?
And Who would stand strong in my place, as in silence I fall?”
Then I fell into sleep, as it stood slowly calling,
Held faith, that in this feeble protest I cried out while falling,
I might somehow send warning to others, to ward them of folly:
“What stillness of shadows I now sweetly dream
That I fall into night with a silenced, shrill scream
And I, frozen, stand chained to folly’s rock
Letting darkly dreamt and seeming demons knock
That I might weave my own dark pall, and they-
Through razor maws and lightless eyes, might ask my soul”