Explore "Ballad" by Olive Tilford Dargan on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When I with Death have gone on quest, / And grief is mellowed in your breast; / When you do nothing fret / If jest come gently in with tea, / And Purr is stroked for want of me; / When thought robust bestirs your mind, / And with a candid start you find / The world must move / To living love / And you forthright on travel set;
I do not ask you strive to keep / Awake the woe that winks for sleep, / Or swell the lessening tear; / I do not ask; dear to me still / May be the eyes regret would fill; / And, sooth, in vain I'd Nature sue / To go a little out for you; / But whether 'tis / Or that or this / Is from the matter there and here.