Author Anna Laetitia Barbauld I never talk but in my sleep; I never cry, but sometimes weep; My doors are open day and night; Old age I help to better sight; I, like camelion, feed on air, And dust to me is dainty fare. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments