I held his hand, and glanced at him, <br />He said his eyes were growing dim, <br />His breath was shallow, and hardly there, <br />This moment that we both could share <br />Was, 'at the last' a moving time <br />When hopes of life, no longer climb <br />And all that one could do was pray <br />That God would speed him on his way. <br /> <br />© Ernestine Northover<br /><br />Ernestine Northover<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/expiration/
