The air was choking bitter where I lay, And out of it I fell to instant peace, Then woke to racking pain that would not cease, But on from weary day to weary day Tortured me slowly till I could but pray For opiates' dull hazard of release; Then back to blessed health's delayed increase I struggled through a drear and desperate way. Not thus, O Doctor Death, the waking fair From your sharp ether! -- young and blithe and strong, Leaping alert in new and living air, Each motion ecstasy, each breath a song, Forgotten all my load of heavy care, -- O Doctor Death! how we have done you wrong! |