Literary Gazette, 25th May, 1822, Page 331
POETIC SKETCHES.
Second Series—Sketch the Fourth.
ST. GEORGE'S HOSPITAL, HYDE-PARK CORNER. [1]
These are familiar things, and yet how few
Think of this misery!—
I left the crowded street and the fresh day,
And entered the dark dwelling, where Death was
A daily visitant,— where sickness shed
Its weary languor o'er each fevered couch.
There was a sickly light, whose glimmer showed
Many a shape of misery: there lay
The victims of disease, writhing with pain;
And low faint groans, and breathings short and deep,
Each gasp a heartfelt agony, were all
That broke the stillness.—There was one, whose brow
Dark with hot climates, and gashed o'er with scars,
Told of the toiling march, the battle-rush,
Where sabres flashed, the red shots flew, and not
One ball or blow but did destruction's work:
But then his heart was high, and his pulse beat
Proudly and fearlessly:— now he was worn
With many a long day's suffering,— and death's
A fearful thing when we must count its steps!
And this was, then, the end of those sweet dreams,
Of home, of happiness, of quiet years
Spent in the little valley which had been
So long his land of promise? Farewell all
Gentle remembrances and cherished hopes!
His race was run, but its goal was the grave.—
I looked upon another, wasted, pale,
With eyes all heavy in the sleep of death;
Yet she was lovely still,—the cold damps hung
Upon a brow like marble, and her eyes,
Though dim, had yet their beautiful blue tinge.
- ↑ This poem appears in The Improvisatrice and Other Poems (1824)
