In the naked bed, in Plato's cave, <br />Reflected headlights slowly slid the wall, <br />Carpenters hammered under the shaded window, <br />Wind troubled the window curtains all night long, <br />A fleet of trucks strained uphill, grinding, <br />Their freights covered, as usual. <br />The ceiling lightened again, the slanting diagram <br />Slid slowly forth. <br /> Hearing the milkman's clop, <br />his striving up the stair, the bottle's chink, <br />I rose from bed, lit a cigarette, <br />And walked to the window. The stony street <br />Displayed the stillness in which buildings stand, <br />The street-lamp's vigil and the horse's patience. <br />The winter sky's pure capital <br />Turned me back to bed with exhausted eyes. <br /> <br />Strangeness grew in the motionless air. The loose <br />Film grayed. Shaking wagons, hooves' waterfalls, <br />Sounded far off, increasing, louder and nearer. <br />A car coughed, starting. Morning softly <br />Melting the air, lifted the half-covered chair <br />From underseas, kindled the looking-glass, <br />Distinguished the dresser and the white wall. <br />The bird called tentatively, whistled, called, <br />Bubbled and whistled, so! Perplexed, still wet <br />With sleep, affectionate, hungry and cold. So, so, <br />O son of man, the ignorant night, the travail <br />Of early morning, the mystery of the beginning <br />Again and again, <br /> while history is unforgiven.<br /><br />Delmore Schwartz<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-naked-bed-in-plato-s-cave/
