The Hammock - Poem by Harry Haigh
Snared within its spidery web,
Back and forth we gently sway,
Your little head upon my arm
Oblivious of the passing day,
Resting in the hammock's fold
Because you're young... and I, too old.
If old were suddenly young again!
If time could only swing like this!
Rejuvenated, reversing course...
But all would end in chaos, not bliss.
Caught inside this pendulum ride,
You cradled snugly by my side,
I dare not move ... you soundly sleep.
My pillowed arm begins to ache,
But that's all right. Too soon you wake,
And soon I sleep ... and sleep ... and sleep.
Comments about The Hammock by Harry Haigh
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You