Explore "The Last Thought" by Edith Nesbit on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It's weary lying here, / While my throbbing forehead echoes all the hum of London near, / And oh! my heart is heavy, in this dull and darkened room, / When I think about our village, where the orchards are in bloom -- / Our little red-roofed village, where the cherry orchards are -- / So far away, so far!
They say that I shall die -- / And I'm tired, and life is noisy, and the good days have gone by: / But oh! my red-roofed village -- I should die with more content / Could I see again your gables, and the orchard slopes of Kent, / And the eyes that look out vainly, from a rose-wreathed cottage door, / For one who comes no more.