ENOCH ARDEN.
15
And pressure, had she sold her wares for less
Than what she gave in buying what she sold:
She fail’d and sadden’d knowing it; and thus,
Expectant of that news which never came,
Gain’d for her own a scanty sustenance,
And lived a life of silent melancholy.
Than what she gave in buying what she sold:
She fail’d and sadden’d knowing it; and thus,
Expectant of that news which never came,
Gain’d for her own a scanty sustenance,
And lived a life of silent melancholy.
Now the third child was sickly-born and grew
Yet sicklier, tho’ the mother cared for it
With all a mother’s care: nevertheless,
Whether her business often call’d her from it,
Or thro’ the want of what it needed most,
Or means to pay the voice who best could tell
What most it needed—howsoe’er it was,
After a lingering,—ere she was aware,—
Like the caged bird escaping suddenly,
The little innocent soul flitted away.
Yet sicklier, tho’ the mother cared for it
With all a mother’s care: nevertheless,
Whether her business often call’d her from it,
Or thro’ the want of what it needed most,
Or means to pay the voice who best could tell
What most it needed—howsoe’er it was,
After a lingering,—ere she was aware,—
Like the caged bird escaping suddenly,
The little innocent soul flitted away.
In that same week when Annie buried it,
Philip’s true heart, which hunger’d for her peace
Philip’s true heart, which hunger’d for her peace
