And when I seek the chamber where she dwelt, Near one loved chair a well-worn spot I see, Worn by the shifting of a feeble knee While the poor head bowed lowly - it would melt The worlding's heart with instant sympathy: The match-box and the manual, lying there, Those sad sweet signs of wakefulness and prayer, Are darling tokens of the Past to me; The little rasping sound of taper lit At midnight, which aroused her slumbering bird: The motion of her languid frame that stirred For ease in some new posture - tho' a word Perchance, of sudden anguish, followed it; All this how often had I seen and heard! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBIN REDBREAST by MOTHER GOOSE GREENES FUNERALLS: SONNET 3 by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE PRAYSE OF LADY PECUNIA by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE TRIUMPHS OF THY CONQUERING POWER by WILLIAM HILEY BATHURST S. BARNABIE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: LEBID by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |