Explore "Maurine" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"Maurine, Maurine, 'tis ten o'clock! arise, / My pretty sluggard, open those dark eyes / And see where yonder sun is! Do you know / I made my toilet just four hours ago?"
'Twas Helen's voice: and Helen's gentle kiss / Fell on my cheek. As from a deep abyss, / I drew my weary self from that strange sleep / That rests not nor refreshes. Scarce awake / Or conscious, yet there seemed a heavy weight / Bound on my breast, as by a cruel Fate. / I knew not why, and yet I longed to weep. / Some dark cloud seemed to hang upon the day; / And, for a moment, in that trance I lay, / When suddenly the truth did o'er me break, / Like some great wave upon a helpless child. / The dull pain in my breast grew like a knife- / The heavy throbbing of my heart grew wild, / And God gave back the burden of the life / He kept what time I slumbered.