We gathered round the modest bedside
Her smile belied the harsh malaise
She looked at us with eyes so glowing
I never will forget that gaze
We knew for her the verdant summer
Would never come, she was too ill
Though hardly past her budding teenage
Consumption took her health and will
'My only wish is yet to wander
To hills where summer flowers bloom
In flowing gown of whitest linen
And run and laugh till I fall down.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem