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A Death Blow
 HE said goodbye, you hobbled out,
The Doctor shut the door.
From your face I knew he’d told you
Things we had guessed before.
I saw you slightly tremble
But I reached you ere you fell.
Your fixèd face said many things
More than you cared to tell.
One does not receive death warrants
As one would a courtesy.
After awhile your head went up
And you talked it all out with me.
Brave little woman I knew you
Knew you were never afraid.
Not for yourself, You forbid me—
To speak and my questions you staid.
All I could give was silence.
Your pride forbade me much.
Tho’ I longed to bear your burden
Even to be your crutch.
 


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