Here in this dim, dull, double-bedded room, I play the father to a brace of boys, Ailing but apt for every sort of noise, Bedfast but brilliant yet with health and bloom. Roden, the Irishman, is 'sieven past,' Blue-eyed, snub-nosed, chubby, and fair of face. Willie's but six, and seems to like the place, A cheerful little collier to the last. They eat, laugh, and sing, and fight, all day; All night they sleep like dormice. See them play At Operations: -- Roden, the Professor, Saws, lectures, takes the artery up, and ties; Willie, self-chloroformed, with half-shut eyes, Holding the limb and moaning -- Case and Dresser. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A HYMN FOR PROCESSION WITH CROSS AND BANNERS by SABINE BARING-GOULD THE IMMORTAL MIND by GEORGE GORDON BYRON AMERICA: SONNET 2 by SYDNEY THOMPSON DOBELL THE LITANY: 10. THE MARTYRS by JOHN DONNE AURENG-ZEBE, OR THE GREAT MOGUL: PROLOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN TWO WITCHES: 2. THE PAUPER WITCH OF GRAFTON by ROBERT FROST BATTLE OF IVRY by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY |