GetJobinPakistan |No.1 August News Network

ISOBEL'S CHILD  " So find we profit, By losing of our prayers."  Shakespeare. TO rest the weary nurse has gone; An eight-day watch had she, Rocking 'neath the sun and moon The baby on her knee: Till Isobel its mother said "The fever waneth-wend to bed-And mine the watch shall be." Wearily the nurse did throw Her pallet in the darkest place Of that sick room, and dreamed. And as the gusty wind did blow The night-lamp's flame across her face, In her dream the poplars seemed, The dark tall poplars on the hill, To clasp the sun in a weird constraint Till his rays dropped from him, pined and still As blossoms in frost: And he waned faint To the colour of moonlight which doth pass Over the dank ridged churchyard grass! The poplars held the sun, and he The eyes of the nurse that they should not see, Not for a moment the babe on her knee, Though she shuddered to feel that it grew to be chill And lay too heavily. She only dreamed: for all the while 'Twas Lady...