Och, Pat, yer drunken rowdy, why did yer come home?
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,