L.A. Vocelle

THE BEST PHYSICIAN

UPON this bed of pain the sick boy lay

Forlorn and sad;

Too much alone he spent the weary day—-

A pining lad. 

The house was hot, the street door open stood

For Cooler air, 

And, unperceived, a small cat creeping in 

Went up the stair. 

Oh, angels come to comfort us at times

When grief is sore!

And this small cat like angel seemed to John

Inside his door. 

Joy flushed his pallid face wi