The son bursts out into laughter:
“At the tavern drink huntsmen three;
“They’re making money, and gladly
“Would teach the secret to me.”
The mother then throws her Bible
Full hard in his lanky face:
“Wouldst thou dare, thou accursed of heaven,
“As a robber thy friends to disgrace?”
They hear a knock at the window,
And see a beckoning hand;
And behold, outside the dead father
In his black preaching-garment doth stand.
31.
The weather is bad and stormy,
With rain and tempest and snow;
I sit at the window, gazing
On the gloomy darkness below.
One single light I see glimm’ring
That slowly moves in the street;
’Tis a woman holding a lantern,
And walking with tottering feet.
I expect that she’s making a purchase
Of meal and butter and eggs;
’Tis to bake a cake for her daughter
That she is out now on her legs.
The daughter’s at home in the arm-chair
And sleepily looks at the light,
Her golden locks stray over
Her face so lovely and bright.