Classic Poem

She who was once a clear-eyed girl
Came in this afternoon with four attendants,
Two for the night, two for the day.
Her hair, that used to curl,
Grown coarse and gray,
Her wide eyes gone astray.

Early and late
She sits and murmurs to herself,
Or laughs an empty sound;
And any quick intrusion
Sets her screaming.

They think to operate —
A small bruise found
On one of those once lovely-lifted breasts.

If, in the operating room
Some fault of hand,
Or vigilance that tests
The ether-laden breath,
Slips her to freedom
They will call it " death. "