<h2><SPAN name="page11"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>THE WATCHER</h2>
<p class="poetry">She gave her soul and body for a carriage,<br/>
And livened lackey with a vacant grin,<br/>
And all the rest—house, lands—and called it
marriage:<br/>
The bargain made, a husband was thrown in.</p>
<p class="poetry">And now, despite her luxury, she’s
faded,<br/>
Gone is the bloom that was so fresh and bright;<br/>
She has the dark-rimmed eye, the countenance jaded,<br/>
Of one who watches with the sick at night.</p>
<p class="poetry">Ah, heaven, she does! her sick heart, sick and
dying,<br/>
Beyond the aid of human skill to save,<br/>
In that cold room her breast is hourly lying,<br/>
And her grim thoughts crowd near to dig its
grave.</p>
<p class="poetry"><SPAN name="page12"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
12</span>And yet it lingers, suffering and wailing,<br/>
As sick hearts will that feed upon despair,<br/>
And that lone watcher, unrelieved, is paling<br/>
With vigils that no pitying soul can share.</p>
<p class="poetry">Ah, lady! it is hardly what you thought it,<br/>
This life of luxury and social power;<br/>
You gave yourself as principal, and bought it,<br/>
But God extracts the interest hour by hour.</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />
1 of 2
2 of 2
Previous
Next
Update Required
To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.