The Baby in the Ward
The Collected Poems of T. W. H. Crosland (London: Martin Secker, 1917): 36. PR 4518 C686A17
1We were all sore and broken and keen on sleep,
3Weary of night and wearier of day,
4With no more health in us than rotten sheep.
5Then, tossed to us on some intangible deep,
6Alicia came, and each man learnt to pray
7That Providence would please find out a way
8To still or abate the voice with which she would weep.
9God's infinite mercy, how that child did cry,
10In spite of bottle, bauble, peppermint, nurse!
11The Tumour said he'd "tell the manager,"
12The Dropsy mumbled forth his bitterest curse;
13But still she wailed and wailed. And when we die
14We shall be sainted for forgiving her.
2] Crosland wrote this poem during a long recovery in Charing Cross Hospital, London (W. Sorley Brown, The Life and Genius of T. W. H. Crosland [London: Cecil Palmer, 1928]: 255). dropsies: those suffering from bodily swelling through fluid retention. Back to Line
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