Helen Hoyt

From “In a Certain City”

WHEN we are asleep, at rest and asleep,

Where do our thoughts and wishes keep?

Where is memory’s dreaming bed,

And where does love lay down her head,

And hope, and happiness, and sorrow?

Where do they go until tomorrow?

Do they sleep, do they rest?

Crowding knowledge, close compressed

In the many-folded brain,

What ghostly bound, what exquisite chain,

Holds you and binds you in till day—

Binds you fast, lest you drift away?