Restless I Toss, Turn Round And Stare Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

Restless I toss, turn round and stare
At the high ceilings: I feel
My Mind Brain pregnant yet austere
A hand prevents the birth
Thus my head aches with birth-pains
Without giving birth to its darling fruit:
Till in few seconds quickened I suddenly
And birth came serene without a pain
And when I saw the new born my eyes
Opened with Copernican wonder on discoveries
Thus made; and the whole earth below
I saw shine and turn round and mighty-round.