He shook his head as he turned away— "Is it life or death?" "We shall know by day." Out from the wards where the sick folk lie, Out neath the black and bitter sky, Past one o'clock and the wind is chill, The snow-clad streets are ghostly still; No friendly noise, no cheering light, So calm the city sleeps tonight, I think its soul has taken flight. Back to the empty home—a thrill, A shudder at its darkened sill, For the clock chimes as on that morn, That happy day when she was born. And now, inexorably slow, To life or death the hours go. Time's wings are clipped; he scarce can creep. Tonight no drug could bring you sleep; Watch at the window for the day; 'Tis all that's left—to watch and pray. But I think the prayer of an anguished heart Must pierce that bleak sky like a dart, And tear that pall of clouds apart. The poplars, edging the frozen lawn, Shudder and whisper: "Wait till dawn." Two spirits stand beside her bed Softly stroking her curly head. Death whispers, "Come"—Life whispers, "Stay." Child, little child, go not away. Life pleads, "Remember"—and Death, "Forget." Little child, little child, go not yet. By all your mother's love and pain, Child of our heart, child of our brain, Stay with us; go not till you see The Fairyland that life can be. The poplars, edging the frozen lawn, Are dancing and singing. "Thank God— the Dawn!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON TALK OF PEACE AT THIS TIME by ROBERT FROST THE MARRIAGE (1) by TIMOTHY LIU DOMESDAY BOOK: IRMA LEESE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ON THE THREE PHILOSOPHICAL POETS by GEORGE SANTAYANA TOWERS OF SIMON RODIA; FOR HOWARD W. SWENSON 1903-1081 by KAREN SWENSON |