Inevitable

First there was putting hot-water bottles to it,

    Then there was seeing what an osteopath could do,

Then trying drugs to coax the thing and woo it,

    Then came the time when he knew that he was through.

Now in his hospital bed I see him lying

    Limp on the pillows like a cast-off Teddy bear.

Is he too ill to know that he is dying?

    And, if he does know, does he really care?

Grey looks the ward with November’s overcasting

    But his large eyes seem to see beyond the day;

Speech becomes sacred near silence everlasting

    Oh if I must speak, have I words to say?

In the past weeks we had talked about Variety,

    Vesta Victoria, Lew Lake and Wilkie Bard,

Horse-buses, hansoms, crimes in High Society—

    Although we knew his death was near, we fought against it hard.

Now from his remoteness in a stillness unaccountable

    He drags himself to earth again to say good-bye to me—

His final generosity when almost insurmountable

    The barriers and mountains he has crossed again must be.