Page:Maurine and Other Poems (1910).pdf/33

 PART IV

“Maurine, Maurine, ’tis ten o’clock! arise, My pretty sluggard, open those dark eyes And see where yonder sun is! Do you know I made my toilet just four hours ago?”

’Twas Helen’s voice: and Helen’s gentle kiss Fell on my cheek. As from a deep abyss, I drew my weary self from that strange sleep That rests not nor refreshes. Scarce awake Or conscious, yet there seemed a heavy weight Bound on my breast, as by a cruel Fate. I knew not why, and yet I longed to weep. Some dark cloud seemed to hang upon the day; And, for a moment, in that trance I lay, When suddenly the truth did o’er me break, Like some great wave upon a helpless child. The dull pain in my breast grew like a knife— The heavy throbbing of my heart grew wild, And God gave back the burden of the life He kept what time I slumbered. “You are ill,” Cried Helen, “with that blinding headache still! You look so pale and weary. Now let me Play nurse, Maurine, and care for you to-day! And first I’ll suit some dainty to your taste, And bring it to you, with a cup of tea.” And off she ran, not waiting my reply. But, wanting most the sunshine and the light, I left my couch, and clothed myself in haste, And, kneeling, sent to God an earnest cry For help and guidance. “Show Thou me the way, Where duty leads, for I am blind! my sight Obscured by self. Oh, lead my steps aright! Help me see the path: and if it may, Let this cup pass:—and yet, Thou heavenly One, Thy will in all things, not mine own, be done.” Rising, I went upon my way, receiving The strength prayer gives alway to hearts believing. I felt that unseen hands were leading me, And knew the end was peace.

“What! are you up?”