Sara Teasdale

Here you will find the Poem Doctors of poet 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.