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Poem by Sara Teasdale 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 Sara Teasdale's other poems: Poems of the other poets with the same name: 1380 Views |
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