10. Poor Henry

Thick in its glass

The medicine stands;

Poor Henry lifts

Distracted hands;

His round cheek wans

In the candlelight,

To smell that smell!

To see that sight!

Finger and thumb

Clinch his small nose,

A gurgle, a gasp,

And down it goes;

Scowls Henry now;

But mark his cheek,

Sleek with the bloom

Of health next week!

Walter de la Mare