It’s a year since I’ve drawn a sober breath.
The doctors all say I will go to my death
If I do not leave off—you may laugh and scoff;
But somehow or other, between me and you,
I believe what the doctors tell me is true,
For at night when I try to be closing my eyes,
Such horrible visions[1417] before me arise
That I cannot rest, and I walk[1418] the floor
And long for the sleep that is mine no more.