The gaunt brown walls Look infinite in their decent meanness. There is nothing of home in the noisy kettle, The fulsome fire. The atmosphere Suggests trail of a ghostly druggist. Dressings and lint on the long, lean table -- Whom are they for? The patients yawn, Or lie as in training for shroud and coffin. A nurse in the corridor scolds and wrangles. It's grim and strange. Far footfalls clank. The bad burn waits with his head unbandaged. My neighbour chokes in the clutch of chloral . . . O, a gruesome world! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DAY AND THE WORK by EDWIN MARKHAM MEMORABILIA by ROBERT BROWNING TO MY HONOURED FRIEND DR. CHARLETON by JOHN DRYDEN THE MORAL FABLES: THE SWALLOW, AND THE OTHER BIRDS by AESOP CHERRY TREE IN AUTUMN by MARIE DAVIES WARREN BECKNER PSALM 139 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE ECHOES OF SPRING: 5 by MATHILDE BLIND |