THE DRUNKARD'S WIFE.
67
"Oh, loved! and lost! oh that he'd turn and flee,—
Flee from the monster ere his doom is fixed!
Cursed be the wine-cup! thrice accursed be he
Who for his fellow-man hath poison mixed!
Flee from the monster ere his doom is fixed!
Cursed be the wine-cup! thrice accursed be he
Who for his fellow-man hath poison mixed!
"My child! oh, Heaven send pity from above!
He turns upon me such strange wistful eyes;
I press his lips, with all my deep strong love,—
Striving to hold him back from Paradise.
He turns upon me such strange wistful eyes;
I press his lips, with all my deep strong love,—
Striving to hold him back from Paradise.
"In vain! the angels call! oh, cruel Death!
My husband! Come! he's dying, he,—our—own!
One feeble sigh,—gone is the fluttering breath!
Great God! 'tis o'er, and I am all alone.
My husband! Come! he's dying, he,—our—own!
One feeble sigh,—gone is the fluttering breath!
Great God! 'tis o'er, and I am all alone.
"My darling one! my beautiful! my bright!
Gone home ere sorrow in thy breast was born,—
I follow thee, I see the beckoning light
On heavenly shores! I go to greet the Morn."
Gone home ere sorrow in thy breast was born,—
I follow thee, I see the beckoning light
On heavenly shores! I go to greet the Morn."
Wild the cold winds roared on; the drifting snow
Wove for the mother and her babe a shroud;
The drunkard lingered in the wine's red glow,
Where on the air fell laughter long and loud.
Wove for the mother and her babe a shroud;
The drunkard lingered in the wine's red glow,
Where on the air fell laughter long and loud.
The eastern heavens blushed with rosiest light,
The crimson day across the Orient broke;
In the calm land where faith is changed to sight,
The mother and her angel child awoke.
The crimson day across the Orient broke;
In the calm land where faith is changed to sight,
The mother and her angel child awoke.
