and wrong,
And into the silent eternity
Relax thy anguished watch, O wife
And fold thy hands--and yet--and yet,
After all the tears which thou hast wept,
Through nights when happier mortals slept,
Thou only wilt weep with fond regret,
Over the corpse of the hopeless dead
For the cause accursed, of drink he has bled,
For that cause he lived and suffered and died
Many deaths in one horrible life,--
The death of his honour, the death of his pride,
On that altar he sacrificed child and wife
Hope, liberty, purity, more than life
Lifes life, God's image, he crushed and killed,
Tore and defaced, wasted and spoiled,
Uncurbed in passion, iron willed,
For _this_ long years he has laboured and toiled,
Devoted his talents, his time his breath,
And at the last his blood he has shed
Truly the wages of sin is death
He was once a babe on a mother s breast,
Tenderly nourished, cared for, caressed
Watched with a mother's love and pride
Dreams of the future warm and bright,
High hopes ambitions in rainbow light
Clustered around him a fairy swarm
Of tender fancies sweet and warm,
As she hung over his cradle bed,
In all this world there's none so bright,
So clever as mother's heart s delight
My child of promise," she proudly said
Oh would to God that he then had died
Died when the anguish of heartstrings torn,
The sudden stilling of childish laughter,
The awful vacance that fills the place
Of the soft, warm touch, of the dear, dear face,
Of the sweet dead child that the heart gropes after
For God's own voice to the mourner saith,
"Be still, I am God, there is hope in his death'
Alas! for the woe that under the sun
Can find no comfort! this child lived on.
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