This poem was one of 33 added in the 1916 edition.
DEAR Jane! dear winsome Jane! How you stole in the room (where I lay so ill) In your nurse's cap and linen cuffs, And took my hand and said with a smile: "You are not so ill-you'll soon be well." And how the liquid thought of your eyes Sank in my eyes like dew that slips Into the heart of a flower. Dear Jane! the whole McNeely fortune Could not have bought your care of me, By day and night, and night and day; Nor paid for you smile, nor the warmth of your soul, In your little hands laid on my brow. Jane, till the flame of life went out In the dark above the disk of night I longed and hoped to be well again To pillow my head on your little breasts, And hold you fast in a clasp of love- Did my father provide for you when he died, Jane, dear Jane?
There are currently no comments for this epitaph. Be the first to add a comment!
We reserve the right to remove off-topic, inappropriate or markedly offensive comments. Although your e-mail address is required in case we need to contact you about your comment, we will not make your e-mail address visible to the public, share it with third parties, or use it to send unsolicited messages.
