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.

1. Swans
2. The Ghost
3. The River
4. November
5. The Song for Colin

Rudyard Kipling Doctors ("Man dies too soon, beside his works half-planned")

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