October came in Oran
And the sun was beating down
Doctor Rieux was working hard
In the plague-ridden town
Orthan’s son had fallen ill
And went into quarantine
Mother and father stood bedside
The plague was now extreme
The little boy lay prostrate
His mother’s face was pale
A hander kerchief across her mouth
The boy was looking frail
You must get your things together
You know how these things are
We’ll take him to the hospital
It isn’t very far
The boy had no resistance
His limps were clogged with pain
Obviously, it was a losing fight
The plague it must be tamed
They took him the concoction
The first test case they’d done
To see if the serum
Would put it on the run
The notaries were observing
The serum under trial
They sat by his bedside
With the serums vial
Now the night came falling
The boy gritted his teeth
The observers sat there hopeful
Hanging by their belief
The boy went into spasms
The tremors took a hold
Through the night in agonies
His body getting cold
Until every bit of strength was gone
But still, the boy fought back
But the storm-wind of the fevers
Gave the boy no slack
Then came a lull
The fever seemed to recede
Had the serum done its work
Did the plague ow leave
The fiery wave of death returned
The boy curled up and cried
He tossed his blankets from him
And closed his eyes and died
His suffering now over
The doctor bowed his head
The priest gave a sermon
The little boy lay dead
Condensed from Part 4, book 3, of the Plague a novel by Albert Camus
I read The Plague a long time ago for a class. I barely remember it, though…
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What is striking is that the general experience of people then is pretty much the same as now. The isolation, the confusion and so on.
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