Explore "The Convalescent Gripster" by Eugene Field on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The gods let slip that fiendish grip / Upon me last week Sunday -- / No fiercer storm than racked my form / E'er swept the Bay of Fundy; / But now, good-by / To drugs, say I -- / Good-by to gnawing sorrow; / I am up to-day, / And, whoop, hooray! / I'm going out to-morrow!
What aches and pain in bones and brain / I had I need not mention; / It seemed to me such pangs must be / Old Satan's own invention; / Albeit I / Was sure I'd die, / The doctor reassured me -- / And, true enough, / With his vile stuff, / He ultimately cured me.