Sydney Thompson Dobell
The Wounded - Poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
'Thou canst not wish to live,' the surgeon said.
He clutched him, as a soul thrust forth from bliss
Clings to the ledge of Heaven! 'Would'st thou keep this
Poor branchless trunk?' 'But she would lean my head
Upon her breast; oh, let me live!' 'Be wise.'
'I could be very happy; both these eyes
Are left me; I should see her; she would kiss
My forehead: only let me live.'-He dies
Even in the passionate prayer. 'Good Doctor, say
If thou canst give more than another day
Of life?' 'I think there may be hope.' 'Pass on.
I will not buy it with some widow's son!'
'Help,' 'help,' 'help,' 'help!' 'God curse thee!' 'Doctor, stay,
Yon Frenchman went down earlier in the day.'
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