The Gambler’s Wife.
Dark is the night! how dark! no light—no fire!
Cold, on the hearth, the last faint sparks expire;
Shivering, she watches by the cradle side,
For him who pledged his love—last year a bride!
Hark! ’tis his footstep!—No: ’tis past—’tis gone!
Tic! tic!—how wearily the time rolls on.
Why should he leave me thus? he once was kind,
And I believed ’twould last,—oh, how mad, how blind!
Rest thee, my babe, rest on,—’tis hunger’s cry!
Sleep: for there is no food: the fount is dry!
Famine and cold their wearing work have done;
My heart must break—and thou, my child!—Hush! the clock strikes one!
Hush! ’tis the dice-box—yes! he’s there—he’s there!
For this he leaves me to despair;
Leaves love—leaves truth—his wife—his child—for what?
The gambler’s fancied bliss—the gambler’s horrid lot!
Yet I’ll not curse him,—no: ’tis all in vain;
’Tis long to wait, but sure he’ll come again;
And I could starve and bless him, but my child, for you,—
Oh, fiend! oh, fiend!—Hush! the clock strikes two!
Hark, how the sign-board creaks,—the blast howls by;
Moan, moan, ye winds, through the cloudy sky.
Ha! ’tis his knock! he comes, he comes once more;
No, ’tis but the lattice-flaps—my hope, my hope is o’er!
Can he desert us thus? he knows I stay
Night after night, in loneliness to pray,
For his return, and yet he sees no tear;
No, no, it can not be, oh! he will be here;
Nestle more closely, dear one, to my heart;
Thou art cold—thou art freezing!—but we will not part!
Husband! I die!—Father! it is not he,
Oh, God, protect my child!—Hush! the clock strikes three!
They’re gone,—the glimmering spark hath fled!
The wife and child are number’d with the dead;
On the cold earth, outstretch’d in solemn rest,
The babe lies frozen on its mother’s breast;
The gambler comes at last, but all is o’er,—
Dread silence reigns around,—the clock strikes four!