Page:Poems, Volume 2, Coates, 1916.djvu/182



S this the place? So still!—as with the hush

That follows storm.

Each on her narrow bed, they quiet lie—

They who, so young, have been so near to die—

Seeming of life but effigy and form.

How fair these girlish faces with closed eyes!

Passion and strife

Seem far from them. Are these beyond their reach?

Nay, see!—high-cradled at the foot of each,

A tender, new-born miracle of life!

On slippered feet the nurses to and fro

Move noiselessly.

A feeble cry!—a sigh half breathed in sleep!

But who is this that vigil here doth keep—

What presence of august benignity?