Explore "Maurine" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
With much hard labour and some pleasure fraught, / The months rolled by me noiselessly, that taught / My hand to grow more skilful in its art, / Strengthened my daring dream of fame, and brought / Sweet hope and resignation to my heart.
Brief letters came from Helen, now and then: / She was quite well-oh yes! quite well, indeed! / But still so weak and nervous. By-and-by, / When baby, being older, should not need / Such constant care, she would grow strong again. / She was as happy as a soul could be; / No least cloud hovered in her azure sky; / She had not thought life held such depths of bliss.