Paul McNeelyDear Jane! dear winsome Jane!How you stole in the room (where I lay so ill)In your nurse’s cap and linen cuffs,And took my hand and said with a smile:“You are not so ill—you’ll soon be well.”And how the liquid thought of your eyesSank in my eyes like dew that slipsInto the heart of a flower.Dear Jane! the whole McNeely fortuneCould not have bought your care of me,By day and night, and night and day;Nor paid for your smile, nor the warmth of your soul,In your little hands laid on my brow.Jane, till the flame of life went outIn the dark above the disk of nightI longed and hoped to be well againTo pillow my head on your little breasts,And hold you fast in a clasp of love—Did my father provide for you when he died,Jane, dear Jane?
Dear Jane! dear winsome Jane!How you stole in the room (where I lay so ill)In your nurse’s cap and linen cuffs,And took my hand and said with a smile:“You are not so ill—you’ll soon be well.”And how the liquid thought of your eyesSank in my eyes like dew that slipsInto the heart of a flower.Dear Jane! the whole McNeely fortuneCould not have bought your care of me,By day and night, and night and day;Nor paid for your smile, nor the warmth of your soul,In your little hands laid on my brow.Jane, till the flame of life went outIn the dark above the disk of nightI longed and hoped to be well againTo pillow my head on your little breasts,And hold you fast in a clasp of love—Did my father provide for you when he died,Jane, dear Jane?