@3Dactylics@1 Weary way-wanderer, languid and sick at heart, Travelling painfully over the rugged road, Wild-visaged wanderer! ah, for thy heavy chance! Sorely thy little one drags by thee bare-footed, Cold is the baby that hangs at thy bending back, Meagre and livid and screaming its wretchedness. Woe-begone mother, half anger, half agony, As over thy shoulder thou lookest to hush the babe, Bleakly the blinding snow beats in thy haggard face. Thy husband will never return from the war again, Cold is thy hopeless heart, even as Charity! -- Cold are thy famished babes, God help thee, widowed one! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SOUTH COUNTRY by HILAIRE BELLOC A SECOND REVIEW OF THE GRAND ARMY [MAY 24, 1865] by FRANCIS BRET HARTE THE BATTLE OF THE KEGS by FRANCIS HOPKINSON TOMORROW by FELIX LOPE DE VEGA CARPIO THE MORNING-GLORY by MARIA WHITE LOWELL THESE ENDURE by MARION H. ADDINGTON TO THE FONT-GEORGES by THEODORE FAULLAIN DE BANVILLE |