Thomas Hood

(1789-1845 / London / England)

The Death Bed


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.

But when the morn came dim and sad
And chill with early showers,
Her queit eyelids closed - she had
Another morn than ours.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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