The bottle is drunk out by one
Philip Arthur Larkin
1922 to 1985
The bottle is drunk out by one,
At two, the book is shut,
At three, the lovers lie apart,
Love and its commerce done,
And now the luminous watch-hands
Show after four o'clock,
Time of night when straying winds
Trouble the dark
And I am sick for want of sleep,
So sick, that I can half-believe
The soundless river pouring from the cave
Is neither strong, nor deep,
Only an image fancied in conceit
I lie and wait for morning, and the birds,
The first steps going down the unswept street,
Voices of girls with scarves around their heads
Philip Arthur Larkin's The bottle is drunk out by one
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