Page:Collected poems vol 2 de la mare.djvu/139

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.

POOR HENRY

THICK in its glass
The physic stands,
Poor Henry lifts
Distracted hands;
His round cheek wans
In the candlelight,
To smell that smell!
To see that sight!
 
Finger and thumb
Clinch his small nose,
A gurgle, a gasp,
And down it goes;
Scowls Henry now;
But mark that cheek,
Sleek with the bloom
Of health next week!

123