There is a Languor of the Life
More imminent than Pain-
'Tis Pain's Successor-When the Soul
Has suffered all it can-

A Drowsiness-diffuses-
A Dimness like a Fog
Envelops Consciousness-
As Mists-obliterate a Crag.

The Surgeon-does not blanch-at pain
His Habit-is severe-
But tell him that it ceased to feel-
The Creature lying there-

And he will tell you-skill is late-
A Mightier than He-
Has ministered before Him-
There's no Vitality.