Page:Thirty poems (IA thirtypoems00bryarich).pdf/62

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POEMS.
Through many a restless day, And many a night of pain.
But bear me gently forth Beneath the open sky,Where, on the pleasant earth, Till night the sunbeams lie.
There, through the coming days, I shall not look to theeMy weary side to raise, And shift it tenderly.
There sweetly shall I sleep; Nor wilt thou need to bringAnd put to my hot lip Cool water from the spring;
Nor wet the kerchief laid Upon my burning brow;Nor from my eyelids shade The light that wounds them now;
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