Classic Poem

When through the long hours of the night
A restless vigil oft I keep,
And ponder, till the morning light,
On all the cares that banish sleep:
There sits, upon my tumbled bed,
A teasing demon at my head,
And whispers in my tortured ear,
So loud I cannot choose but hear,
A dreary catalogue of woes
That all begin alike: " Suppose! "

" Suppose! Suppose! " he whispers, first,
" Suppose the water-pipes should burst?
Suppose the doctors say the worst
Of poor rheumatic Jimmie's case?
Suppose you never sleep again?
Suppose you get that horrid pain
You had, last winter, in the face?
Papa is looking rather pale:
Suppose his splendid health should fail?
Suppose the gout attack his toes?
Suppose! suppose! suppose! suppose!

" Suppose the landlord raise his rent?
Suppose your Charles his luck abuse
To speculate with every cent
And all his hard-earned fortune lose?
Suppose the horses run away — "
On, on, the teasing urchin goes —
" Upon Virginia's wedding day?
Suppose! suppose! suppose! suppose! "

At last I answer, once for all:
" Suppose! suppose the moon should fall! "
The bed is soft and warm and wide;
I turn upon the other side:
With quiet breathing, long and deep,
I try to cheat myself to sleep;
Yet still the demon interposes
To rouse me from my sweetest dozes.
I'd like to smother in the " clo'es "
That wretched little imp, Suppose!