Classic Poem

Oh, the sad day!
When friends shall shake their heads, and say
Of miserable me —
" Hark, how he groans, look how he pants for breath,
See how he struggles with the pangs of death!"
— — When they shall say of these poor eyes —
— — " How hollow and how dim they be!
— — Mark how his breast does swell and rise
— — Against his potent enemy!"
When some old friend shall step to my bedside,
Touch my chill face, and then shall gently slide,
— — And — when his next companions say
" How does he do? What hopes?" — shall turn away,
— — Answering only, with a lift-up hand —
" Who can his fate withstand?"
— — Then shall a gasp or two do more
— — Than e'er my rhetoric could before:
Persuade the peevish world to trouble me no more!

Oh, the sad day!
When friends shall shake their heads, and say
Of miserable me —
" Hark, how he groans, look how he pants for breath,
See how he struggles with the pangs of death!"
— — When they shall say of these poor eyes —
— — " How hollow and how dim they be!
— — Mark how his breast does swell and rise
— — Against his potent enemy!"
When some old friend shall step to my bedside,
Touch my chill face, and then shall gently slide,
— — And — when his next companions say
" How does he do? What hopes?" — shall turn away,
— — Answering only, with a lift-up hand —
" Who can his fate withstand?"
— — Then shall a gasp or two do more
— — Than e'er my rhetoric could before:
Persuade the peevish world to trouble me no more!