Dorothy McVickar

I HAVE watched long days of dawning,

And long, long nights of dread;

And I am a little weary

Of traveling toward the dead.

When I looked out last evening

I thought the wan moonlight

Seemed tired and pale with shining,

A lantern in the night.

I heard them whisper this morning

As I heard them yesterday,

“Do you think she will last much longer,

Dragging along this way?

Her hands are like withered flowers,

Her face is a strange dried leaf;

She has stayed too long in her body,

She is wheat turned dust in the sheaf.”