By David Coy
Her heart was broken; day by day
She wasted silently away.
And o’er her large card eyes there grew
A film of leaden-colored hue;
Her step was languid, slow and weak,
A hectic fever flush her cheek,
Seldom and little did she speak.
And he to whom her faith was vowed…
To see if he had given her aught
To cause this apathy of thought,
This tearful silence, sorrow fraught.
At length she spoke one dewy morn;
“Adolph, you wonder why forlorn
I pensive sit from day to day,
And pine in solitude away;
Dear husband, I will tell you all;
My neighbor, Madame D’Argental,
Has got—I have not —a new shawl.”
- Charles Graham Halpine.
Sunrise Aftercare, firstname.lastname@example.org