100
POEMS.
The patient spouse who meekly shared
His home and toil, but not his glee,
The matutinal meal prepared
With quiet, quaint dexterity;
But, while the smoking viands rolled
Their odor out, a smothered sigh
From her lymphatic partner told
That Death, unbidden guest, was nigh.
His home and toil, but not his glee,
The matutinal meal prepared
With quiet, quaint dexterity;
But, while the smoking viands rolled
Their odor out, a smothered sigh
From her lymphatic partner told
That Death, unbidden guest, was nigh.
········
So, quickly sped the mystery;
While proximate inhabitants,
Who preconceived how it would be,
Met each to each with knowing glance;
And filled again the master's cup
And sympathy and sorrow told;
And, while they drank its contents up,
His relict tenderly consoled.
While proximate inhabitants,
Who preconceived how it would be,
Met each to each with knowing glance;
And filled again the master's cup
And sympathy and sorrow told;
And, while they drank its contents up,
His relict tenderly consoled.
The coroner and all his clique
Sat on the body, just as if
They meant to make the dead man speak
And tell how he became so stiff;
As happens oft when one is drowned
The jurymen clear up the doubt
By sitting on the body found—
As if to squeeze the water out.
Sat on the body, just as if
They meant to make the dead man speak
And tell how he became so stiff;
As happens oft when one is drowned
The jurymen clear up the doubt
By sitting on the body found—
As if to squeeze the water out.
