When did the sun rise? Why can't I recall
The basic facts about the newfound day?
Is it my fate to always, somehow, fall
Into a deep dark sleep when others may
At last raise up their heads and truly say
The hour of action comes? Why cannot I
Remember anything of yesterday
Except that I was sleeping? Tell me why
My memory has hung me out to dry
And left me only sour scraps? I know
Or think I know - a memory may lie -
Which place I was, and where I wished to go,
But cannot say whether I went. I'm sure
My memory is ill - I have no cure.
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