The yellow book: an illustrated quarterly (13.1897)

The Question

By Stephen Phillip

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Father, beneath the moonless night,

This heavy stillness without light,

There comes a thought which I must speak ;
Why is my body then so weak ?

Why do I falter in the race,

And flag behind this mighty pace ?

Why is my strength so quickly flown ?

And hark ! My mother sobs alone !

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My son, when I was young and free,

When I was filled with sap and pdee,

I squandered here and there my strength,

And to thy mother’s arms at length
Weary I came, and over-tired ;

With fever all my bones were fired.
Therefore so soon thy strength is flown,
Therefore thy mother sobs alone.