Sickroom

--by Francis D Clare

Yes, all your dutiful goodness I remember;
The grave inquiries, necessary thought,
Let some broad credits mark your careful kindness
Down on some page, but it escapes my heart
That holds, instead, your sweet, impractical presence,
The theoretic sympathy of eyes,
The quite unsterile warmth of sudden smiling,
Unantiseptic pressure of your hand.
The bones sag on, in prophylactic goodness;
But oh! what brave strength surges to the heart
In ex officio moments love devises;
The slim cornflowers springing from your hand!