How roughly kind he was. For weeks I hung
'Twixt life and death; health, like a varying, sick,
And fluttering pendulum, now this way swung,
Now that, until at last its querulous tick
Beat out life's usual time, and slowly rung
The long loud hours that exclaimed, "Be quick!--
Arise--Go forth!--Hear how her black wrongs call!--
Make them the salve to cure thy wounds withal!"