 | [At the morgue, in] One hundred choice selections |  |
84
AT THE MORGUE.
Deal gently, Preacher,
With this poor creature,
So fair of feature,
So mute and cold!
One lieth yonder,
The city's wonder,
Who scorned to proffer
Her charms for gold.
With this poor creature,
So fair of feature,
So mute and cold!
One lieth yonder,
The city's wonder,
Who scorned to proffer
Her charms for gold.
Come nigh and study
Her winsome body:
Those lips, once ruddy,
Now dank and pale;
The hair, whose sable
Bestrews the table;
Would we were able
To guess her tale!
Her winsome body:
Those lips, once ruddy,
Now dank and pale;
85
Bestrews the table;
Would we were able
To guess her tale!
The Morgue hath paid her
Its last grim duty;
That sacred beauty
Lies all confessed.
What impress lingers
Of baby fingers
(Was there no ring hers?)
On yon white breast!
Its last grim duty;
That sacred beauty
Lies all confessed.
What impress lingers
Of baby fingers
(Was there no ring hers?)
On yon white breast!
For this she yielded
Life's strong endearment,
Think what her fear meant,
What her despair!
Was there no morrow
From which to borrow
Other than sorrow,
For one so fair?
Life's strong endearment,
Think what her fear meant,
What her despair!
Was there no morrow
From which to borrow
Other than sorrow,
For one so fair?
Father above us,
Save those who love us!
Read what her hand wrote,
Just ere she died:
“No friend, no dear one,
Hath helped or hindered;
I have no kindred,
In the world wide.”
Save those who love us!
Read what her hand wrote,
Just ere she died:
“No friend, no dear one,
Hath helped or hindered;
I have no kindred,
In the world wide.”
No stay was given
Of earth or heaven,
How she had striven
Unto this last!
Honor was left her:
Ere man bereft her
Of this one jewel,
Her spirit passed.
Of earth or heaven,
How she had striven
Unto this last!
Honor was left her:
Ere man bereft her
Of this one jewel,
Her spirit passed.
Spotless and pure,
She doth endure
The slab, the sewer,
The body's shame;
Her all defending,
To the storm bending,
She made this ending,
Hiding her name.
She doth endure
The slab, the sewer,
The body's shame;
Her all defending,
To the storm bending,
She made this ending,
Hiding her name.
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Poor soul, and lonely,
Thy Father only
Saw thee in mortal
Anguish that night;
Saw, and forgave thee—
Men could not save thee,—
When from its portal
Thy breath took flight.
Thy Father only
Saw thee in mortal
Anguish that night;
Saw, and forgave thee—
Men could not save thee,—
When from its portal
Thy breath took flight.
With no derision
Of thy misprision
Our pitying vision
On thee doth fall.
Would we might aid thee,
Or could have stayed thee,
Ere Want had laid thee
Here in Death's hall!
Of thy misprision
Our pitying vision
On thee doth fall.
Would we might aid thee,
Or could have stayed thee,
Ere Want had laid thee
Here in Death's hall!
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