Classic and Contemporary Poetry
WIDOW BEDOTT TO ELDER SNIFFLER, by FRANCES MIRIAM WHITCHER First Line: O reverend sir, I do declare Last Line: Priscilla pool bedott. Subject(s): Sickness; Women; Illness | ||||||||
O REVEREND sir, I do declare It drives me most to frenzy, To think of you a-lying there Down sick with influenzy. A body'd thought it was enough To mourn your wife's departer, Without sich trouble as this ere To come a-follerin' arter. But sickness and affliction Are sent by a wise creation, And always ought to be underwent By patience and resignation. O, I could to your bedside fly, And wipe your weeping eyes, And do my best to cure you up, If 'twouldn't create surprise. It's a world of trouble we tarry in, But, Elder, don't despair; That you may soon be movin' again Is constantly my prayer. Both sick and well, you may depend You'll never be forgot By your faithful and affectionate friend, PRISCILLA POOL BEDOTT. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SICK CHILD by RANDALL JARRELL AFTERNOON AT MACDOWELL by JANE KENYON HAVING IT OUT WITH MELANCHOLY by JANE KENYON SONNET: 9. HOPE by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES K.K. - CAN'T CALCULATE by FRANCES MIRIAM WHITCHER CLEAR AND COLDER; BOSTON COMMON by ROBERT FROST ON THE DEATH OF DR. ROBERT LEVET, A PRACTISER IN PHYSIC by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1709-1784) |
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