Doctors
EVERY night I lie awake
And every day I lie abed
And hear the doctors, Pain and Death,
Confering at my head.
They speak in scientific tones,
Professional and low--
One argues for a speedy cure,
The other, sure and slow.
To one so humble as myself
It should be matter for some pride
To have such noted fellows here,
Conferring at my side.
Sara Teasdale’s other poems:
Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):
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