Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
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Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
 
XVI. Crossed Hands and Closed Eyes
The Death-bed
By Thomas Hood (1799–1845)
 
WE watch’d her breathing thro’ the night,
  Her breathing soft and low,
As in her breast the wave of life
  Kept heaving to and fro!
 
So silently we seemed to speak—        5
  So slowly moved about!
As we had lent her half our powers
  To eke her living out!
 
Our very hopes belied our fears,
  Our fears our hopes belied—        10
We thought her dying when she slept,
  And sleeping when she died!
 
For when the morn came dim and sad—
  And chill with early showers,
Her quiet eyelids closed—she had        15
  Another morn than ours!
 
 
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