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Dickens' Lament
To her kin Catherine was I in flesh married To my young beloved Mary was my soul wed Too long that eve at my play we all three tarried And all of six hours later was my soulmate dead. In my aching arms where now lifeless she did lay Catherine calmly the obsequies did prepare Where I did but reflect in grief upon that play "Is She My Wife?" which thought I found so hard to bear. From her rich dark tresses I plucked a precious lock To be ever after kept, held close to my breast Her ring on my finger her death struggled to mock While oft in my sad heart her spirit I addressed. Without her who was so young,beautiful and good The magic of family began soon to fade Her memory my mind nourished better than food The fine weeds did I cherish of my once fair maid. My broken heart in my empty life for her will sigh But Catherine sadly less and less means to me Whene'er death comes,with my Mary I'll surely lie And from my earthbound wife will I be ever free.
Copyright © 2024 Denis Bruce. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs