Читать книгу Obstetrical Nursing - Carolyn Conant Van Blarcom - Страница 18

There was a time when you were not,

You merry sprite, save as a strain,

The strange dull pain

Of green buds swelling

In warm, straight dwelling

That must burst to the April rain.

A little heavy I was then

And dull—and glad to rest. And when

The travail came

In searing flame ...

But, sprite, that was so long ago!—

A century!—I scarcely know.

Almost I had forgot

When you were not.

—Eunice Tietjens.