Denzil place a story in verse. By Violet Fane [i.e. M. M. Lamb] |
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 | Denzil place |  |
All night she could not sleep, tho' worn and tired
She toss'd and turn'd, and ever and anon
Came to her mind Sister Theresa's words,
Which she repeated oft: “My life at home
“In England was unfortunate; I came
“Hither to lose my sad identity—
“I have succeeded.” . . .
She toss'd and turn'd, and ever and anon
Came to her mind Sister Theresa's words,
Which she repeated oft: “My life at home
“In England was unfortunate; I came
“Hither to lose my sad identity—
“I have succeeded.” . . .
Then at last she thought,
“I will give up the weary, wicked world,
“And live this idle, happy, pray'rful life
“Amongst the vines. Calm and self-satisfied,
“I may be spared the pain of many tears,
“And helpless, hopeless, longings to forget—
“Oh God, that it were possible to lose
“One hated, blessèd, haunting memory!”
“I will give up the weary, wicked world,
“And live this idle, happy, pray'rful life
“Amongst the vines. Calm and self-satisfied,
“I may be spared the pain of many tears,
“And helpless, hopeless, longings to forget—
“Oh God, that it were possible to lose
“One hated, blessèd, haunting memory!”
| Denzil place | |