Gangrene

So often in the mid of night
  I wake me in my bed
With utter panic of affright
  To find my feet are dead;
And pace the floor to easy my pain
  And make them live again.

The folks at home are so discreet;
  They see me walk and walk
To keep the blood-flow in my feet,
  And though they never talk
I've heard them whisper: 'Mother may
  Have them cut off some day.'

Cut off my feet! I'd rather die . . .
  And yet the years of pain,
When in the darkness I will lie
  And pray to God in vain,
Thinking in agony: Oh why
Can doctors not annul our breath
  In honourable death?

Rate this poem:(0.00 / 0 votes)
171 Views

Translation

Find a translation for this poem in other languages:

Select another language:

Discuss this Robert William Service poem with the community:

Citation

Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:

Style:MLAChicagoAPA

"Gangrene by Robert William Service" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 17 Jan. 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/32141>.

We need you!

Help us build the largest poetry community and poems collection on the web!

Other poems by

Robert William Service

»

Thanks for your vote! We truly appreciate your support.