Reading Time: < 1 minute

Poem

In the daytime, when she moved about me,
In the night, when she was sleeping at my side, —
I was wearied, I was wearied of her presence.
Day by day and night by night I grew to hate her —
Would God that she or I had died!

Previous Poem
The Boy Scouts’ Patrol Song
Next Poem
The Butterfly That Stamped