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,—