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

 HICK 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!