Children: Private Ward

Here in this dim, dull, double-bedded room,I play the father to a brace of boys,Ailing but apt for every sort of noise,Bedfast but brilliant yet with health and bloom.Roden, the Irishman, is 'sieven past,'Blue-eyed, snub-nosed, chubby, and fair of face.Willie's but six, and seems to like the place,A cheerful little collier to the last.They eat, and laugh, and sing, and fight, all day;All night they sleep like dormice. See them playAt Operations:—Roden, the Professor,Saws, lectures, takes the artery up, and ties;Willie, self-chloroformed, with half-shut eyes,Holding the limb and moaning—Case and Dresser.