I Have Drank My Last Glass

No, comrades, I thank you—not any for me;
My last chain is riven—henceforward I'm free!
I will go to my home and my children to-night
With no fumes of liquor their spirits to blight;
And, with tears in my eyes, I will beg my poor wife
To forgive me the wreck I have made of her life.
I have never refused you before? Let that pass,
For I've drank my last glass, boys,
I have drank my last glass.
Just look at me now, boys, in rags and disgrace,
With my bleared, haggard eyes, and my red, bloated face;
Mark my faltering step and my weak, palsied hand,
And the mark on my brow that is worse than Cain's brand;
See my crownless old hat, and my elbows and knees,
Alike, warmed by the sun, or chilled by the breeze.
Why, even the children will hoot as I pass;—
But I've drank my last glass, boys,
I have drank my last glass.
You would hardly believe, boys, to look at me now
That a mother's soft hand was pressed on my brow—
When she kissed me, and blessed me, her darling, her pride,
Ere she lay down to rest by my dead father's side;
But with love in her eyes, she looked up to the sky
Bidding me meet her there and whispered "Good-bye."
And I'll do it, God helping! Your smile I let pass,
For I've drank my last glass, boys,
I have drank my last glass.
Ah! I reeled home last night, it was not very late,
For I'd spent my last sixpence, and landlords won't wait
On a fellow who's left every cent in their till,
And has pawned his last bed, their coffers to fill.
Oh, the torments I felt, and the pangs I endured!
And I begged for one glass—just one would have cured,—
But they kicked me out doors! I let that, too, pass,
For I've drank my last glass, boys,
I have drank my last glass.
At home, my pet Susie, with her rich golden hair,
I saw through the window, just kneeling in prayer;
From her pale, bony hands, her torn sleeves hung down,
And her feet, cold and bare, shrank beneath her scant gown,
And she prayed—prayed for bread, just a poor crust of bread,
For one crust, on her knees my pet darling plead!
And I heard, with no penny to buy one, alas!
For I've drank my last glass, boys,
I have drank my last glass.
For Susie, my darling, my wee six-year-old,
Though fainting with hunger and shivering with cold,
There, on the bare floor, asked God to bless me!
And she said, "Don't cry, mamma! He will; for you see,
I believe what I ask for!" Then sobered, I crept
Away from the house; and that night, when I slept,
Next my heart lay the PLEDGE! You smile! let it pass,
For I've drank my last glass, boys
I have drank my last glass.
My darling child saved me! Her faith and her love
Are akin to my dear sainted mother's above!
I will make my words true, or I'll die in the race,
And sober I'll go to my last resting place;
And she shall kneel there, and, weeping, thank God
No drunkard lies under the daisy-strewn sod!
Not a drop more of poison my lips shall e'er pass,
For I've drank my last glass, boys,
I have drank my last glass.

Highland Mary

Ye banks, and braes, and streams around
The castle o' Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
There simmer first unfauld her robes,
And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last fareweel
O' my sweet Highland Mary.
How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk,
How rich the hawthorn's blossom,
As, underneath their fragrant shade,
I clasp'd her to my bosom!
The golden hours, on angel wings,
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary!
Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace,
Our parting was fu' tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder;
But, oh, fell death's untimely frost,
That nipp'd my flower sae early!
Now green's the sod and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!
Oh, pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
I aft ha'e kiss'd, sae fondly!
And closed for aye the sparkling glance
That dwalt on me sae kindly!
And mouldering now in silent dust,
That heart that lo'ed me dearly;
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary!
Robert Burns.

A Night with a Wolf

Little one, come to my knee!
Hark, how the rain is pouring
Over the roof, in the pitch-black night,
And the wind in the woods a-roaring!
Hush, my darling, and listen,
Then pay for the story with kisses;
Father was lost in the pitch-black night,
In just such a storm as this is!
High up on the lonely mountains,
Where the wild men watched and waited
Wolves in the forest, and bears in the bush,
And I on my path belated.
The rain and the night together
Came down, and the wind came after,
Bending the props of the pine-tree roof,
And snapping many a rafter.
I crept along in the darkness,
Stunned, and bruised, and blinded,—
Crept to a fir with thick-set boughs,
And a sheltering rock behind it.
There, from the blowing and raining
Crouching, I sought to hide me:
Something rustled, two green eyes shone,
And a wolf lay down beside me.
Little one, be not frightened;
I and the wolf together,
Side by side, through the long, long night
Hid from the awful weather.
His wet fur pressed against me;
Each of us warmed the other;
Each of us felt, in the stormy dark,
That beast and man was brother.
And when the falling forest
No longer crashed in warning,
Each of us went from our hiding-place
Forth in the wild, wet morning.
Darling, kiss me in payment!
Hark, how the wind is roaring;
Father's house is a better place
When the stormy rain is pouring!
Bayard Taylor.