There is a Languor of the Life


There is a Languor of the Life
More imminent than Pain
‘Tis Pain’s Successor When the Soul
Has suffered all it can

A Drowsiness diffuses
A Dimness like a Fog
Envelops Consciousness
As Mists obliterate a Crag.

The Surgeon does not blanch at pain
His Habit is severe
But tell him that it ceased to feel
The Creature lying there

And he will tell you skill is late
A Mightier than He
Has ministered before Him
There’s no Vitality.


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There is a Languor of the Life