Julia MillerWe quarreled that morning,For he was sixty—five, and I was thirty,And I was nervous and heavy with the childWhose birth I dreaded.I thought over the last letter written meBy that estranged young soulWhose betrayal of me I had concealedBy marrying the old man.Then I took morphine and sat down to read.Across the blackness that came over my eyesI see the flickering light of these words even now:“And Jesus said unto him, VerilyI say unto thee, To-day thou shaltBe with me in paradise.”
We quarreled that morning,For he was sixty—five, and I was thirty,And I was nervous and heavy with the childWhose birth I dreaded.I thought over the last letter written meBy that estranged young soulWhose betrayal of me I had concealedBy marrying the old man.Then I took morphine and sat down to read.Across the blackness that came over my eyesI see the flickering light of these words even now:“And Jesus said unto him, VerilyI say unto thee, To-day thou shaltBe with me in paradise.”