While I Slept

While I slept, while I slept and the night grew colder

She would come to my room, stepping softly

And draw a blanket about my shoulder

While I slept.

While I slept, while I slept in the dark, still heat

She would come to my bedside, stepping coolly

And smooth and twisted, troubled sheet

While I slept.

Now she sleeps, sleeps under quiet rain

While nights grow warm or nights grow colder.

And I wake, and sleep, and wake again

While she sleeps.

– Robert Francis (1901-87)