 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
THE SURGEON'S STORY.
Never again
While the clouds scatter rain,
And the green grass grows, and the great rivers run,
And the earth travels round the immovable sun,
And heaves with the tide the untamable sea,
Will she be but an object of hatred to me;
And never again will my pulses thrill
At the light of her smile, at her frown stand still,
As they thrilled or stilled in the by-gone days
When we thridded together the wild-wood ways.
While the clouds scatter rain,
And the green grass grows, and the great rivers run,
And the earth travels round the immovable sun,
And heaves with the tide the untamable sea,
Will she be but an object of hatred to me;
And never again will my pulses thrill
At the light of her smile, at her frown stand still,
As they thrilled or stilled in the by-gone days
When we thridded together the wild-wood ways.
363
False to her trust,
She is prone in the dust;
Her feeling and honor and troth-plight are sold
For velvets and laces and jewels and gold,
For a mansion of splendor, a withered old lord,
And a life where her soul by itself is abhorred;
But should ever, as may, in the day to come
To a terrible trouble her heart succumb,
In that moment of misery let her beware
Of the wretch she has doomed to a life of despair.
She is prone in the dust;
Her feeling and honor and troth-plight are sold
For velvets and laces and jewels and gold,
For a mansion of splendor, a withered old lord,
And a life where her soul by itself is abhorred;
But should ever, as may, in the day to come
To a terrible trouble her heart succumb,
In that moment of misery let her beware
Of the wretch she has doomed to a life of despair.
Such was the thought
From my agony wrought;
Such the resolve that my spirit controlled,
As I saw her one night with her husband old,
So haughtily poising her beautiful neck,
While worshippers waited her nod and beck;
But casting no thought to the lures and deceit
That had brought me abased on the earth at her feet;
And hiding from view, by her treacherous smile,
Her bosom of ice and her spirit of guile.
From my agony wrought;
Such the resolve that my spirit controlled,
As I saw her one night with her husband old,
So haughtily poising her beautiful neck,
While worshippers waited her nod and beck;
But casting no thought to the lures and deceit
That had brought me abased on the earth at her feet;
And hiding from view, by her treacherous smile,
Her bosom of ice and her spirit of guile.
None in his wrath
May determine his path;
As years after I knew when on duty I passed
Through the hospital wards by the sufferers ghast—
(An engine had leapt from its track on the rail,
And these were the wounded ones, mangled and pale,)
Who waited and watched for my coming to know
Were they destined to stay with the living or go;
For one face of those faces alone I could see,
And the rest were but shadows of shadows to me.
May determine his path;
As years after I knew when on duty I passed
Through the hospital wards by the sufferers ghast—
(An engine had leapt from its track on the rail,
And these were the wounded ones, mangled and pale,)
Who waited and watched for my coming to know
Were they destined to stay with the living or go;
For one face of those faces alone I could see,
And the rest were but shadows of shadows to me.
364
There, in the bed,
Half-living, half-dead,
No remnant remaining of wealth that had been,
But, drawn around a form that was wasted and thin,
A calico gown, faded, tattered and old—
No velvets, no laces, no jewels, no gold;
Of the charms once so potent no token, nor trace,
But some grey hairs instead, sunken cheeks, pallid face;
And thus I beheld her when long years had flown,
Poor Claribel! dying, forsaken, and lone.
Half-living, half-dead,
No remnant remaining of wealth that had been,
But, drawn around a form that was wasted and thin,
A calico gown, faded, tattered and old—
No velvets, no laces, no jewels, no gold;
Of the charms once so potent no token, nor trace,
But some grey hairs instead, sunken cheeks, pallid face;
And thus I beheld her when long years had flown,
Poor Claribel! dying, forsaken, and lone.
Faded away
As before me she lay,
The bitter resolve and the purpose of years,
And hatred was drowned in my pitying tears.
Was this, then, the end of her beauty and pride,
At whose feet I had knelt, for whose favor had sighed?
Was this dying woman, abandoned, forlorn,
The belle who had held all her rivals in scorn?
Wealth vanished, hope parted, her flatterers fled,
Eye glazing, pulse failing—a shiver—dead—dead.
As before me she lay,
The bitter resolve and the purpose of years,
And hatred was drowned in my pitying tears.
Was this, then, the end of her beauty and pride,
At whose feet I had knelt, for whose favor had sighed?
Was this dying woman, abandoned, forlorn,
The belle who had held all her rivals in scorn?
Wealth vanished, hope parted, her flatterers fled,
Eye glazing, pulse failing—a shiver—dead—dead.
Shrouded and cold,
As the solemn bell tolled,
We laid the poor wanderer down to her rest,
With a stone at her head, and the earth on her breast;
And never again while the clouds scatter rain,
While the winds sough through forest, or sweep over plain,
And the green grass grows, and the great rivers run,
And the earth travels round the immovable sun,
And heaves with the tide the untamable sea,
Will more than a memory of Claribel be.
As the solemn bell tolled,
We laid the poor wanderer down to her rest,
With a stone at her head, and the earth on her breast;
And never again while the clouds scatter rain,
While the winds sough through forest, or sweep over plain,
And the green grass grows, and the great rivers run,
And the earth travels round the immovable sun,
And heaves with the tide the untamable sea,
Will more than a memory of Claribel be.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |