THE DEATH-BED

by: Thomas Hood (1799-1845)

      E 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 seem'd to speak,
      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--
      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
      Another morn than ours.

"The Death-bed" is reprinted from The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900. Ed. Arthur Quiller-Couch. Oxford: Clarendon, 1919.

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