Title Pending....

My brain commits abortions-
Culling countless thoughts of mine.
Some of them- it's true- were monstrous
ill-borne notions of a fever'd mind.
But others- Oh! Sublime creations
I lacked the courage to conceive
Unborn beauty wanting breath-
The shame, and pity, of me.

Waves of somnolence
I move in somnambulance
But some sensations submit not to silence
Strong and surviving, the subsist in reviving
My sleepy slumbering soul -
spirited resistance
against the night

Pensive Sara on The Eolian Harp:

My fanciful Sam! thy rough arm align'd
Thus with my cheek, most disconcerting 'tis
To sprawl beside our cot, our cot o'er grown
Through your neglecting Dreams, and poet's Scribblings,
(Meet emblems they of your forgetful Love!)
And watch the skies, that late were rich with clouds,
Grow raindrops round, and mark the chilling wind
Hungrily knawing (such should Knowledge be)...