In the Room.
69
V.
Each new day worse starvation brings:
Since he came here I have not known
Or sweets or cates or wholesome things:
But now! a pinch of meal, a crust,
Throughout the week is all I get.
I am so empty; it is just
As when they said we were to let.
VI.
The petulant old glass exclaimed;
If all this time he slumber can,
He really ought to be ashamed.
I wish we had our Girl again,
So gay and busy, bright and fair:
The girls are better than these men,
Who only for their dull selves care.
VII.
The lamp and fire were both alight—
I saw him pacing to and fro,
Perturbing restlessly the night.