From "More Poems"
XIII
I lay me down and slumber
And every morn revive.
Whose is the night-long breathing
That keeps a man alive?
When I was off to dreamland
And left my limbs forgot,
Who stayed at home to mind them,
And breathed when I did not?
. . . . .
-- I waste my time in talking,
No heed at all takes he,
My kind and foolish comrade
That breathes all night for me.
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