With all our mirth, I doubt if we shall be Like Martha here, in her serenity, When we're her age; who goes from bed to bed, To wash the faces of the newly dead; To close their staring eyes and comb their hair, To cross their hands and change the linen there; Who helps the midwife to give strength and breath To babes, by almost beating them to death With a wet towel; and half drowns them too, Until their tender flesh is black and blue. Not all the revels, Martha, we have been to Can give us, when we're old, a peace like yours -- Due to the corpses you have gone and seen to. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SURFACES AND MASKS; 1 by CLARENCE MAJOR A MAN CHILD IS BORN (1839) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS APPELLATE JURISDICTION by MARIANNE MOORE THE EMULATION by SARAH FYGE EGERTON ROBIN REDBREAST by MOTHER GOOSE THE ETERNAL GOODNESS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER SARGENT'S PORTRAIT OF EDWIN BOOTH AT THE PLAYERS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |