Drink.

By Lennox Amott

I. An English village, a summer scene, A homely cottage, a garden green, An opening vista, a cloudless sky, A bee that hums as it passes by; A babe that chuckles among the flowers, A smile that enlivens the mid-day hours, A wife that is fair as the sunny day, A peace that the world cannot take away, A hope that is humble and daily bread, A thankful soul that is comforted, A cosy cot and a slumbering child, A life and a love that are undefiled, A thought that is silent, an earnest prayer, The noiseless step of a phantom there! II. A drunken husband, a wailing wife; Oh, a weary way is the way of life! A heartless threat and a cruel blow And grief that the world can never know; A tongue obscene and a will perverse, A horrid oath and a muttered curse, A winter drear and a scanty meal, A heart so hard, oh, a heart of steel! A wizened look and an infant's cry, The cold, cold clutch of Poverty, A withered hand and a blanchd cheek, Alone, and, ah, no friend to seek! A chilly hearth and a ragged dress, A home that is all heaviness! III. A grim grey court in a City's gloom, A frantic fear of eternal doom, A wretch besotted and depraved And cries that cursed the curse they craved, Pollution all, no light! no light! "Oh, where shall be my drink, to-night!" A wretched garret, a straw-strewn bed, A husband stretched in a corner--dead. A shriek of anguish, a choking sigh, "Oh let me perish, let me die!" An agony of dire despair, A picture of torn and dishevelled hair, And none to succour, none to save, A pauper's hearse and an early grave. A voiceless widow, a wringing of hands, A long, long wish for some far off sands, A staring eye and a vacant mood, "Oh Father, teach me to be good" A strengthless effort, a feverish start, A prostrate form and--a broken heart. IV. A dismal eve and a howling dog, A ghostly silence, a river fog, A byway deserted, a dingy street, A glimmer to light life's feeble feet. A trembling step and a beaded brow, "Oh where, oh where, shall I hasten now?" No eye hath seen nor ever shall, On, on in the gloom, to the still canal; Hush, hush, a murmur--a fearful pause-- A footfall--oh horror; a slam of doors-- A sinking down to former repose, "Oh darkness come and end my woes." Away like a phantom, down far to the East, "Oh when shall the weary and sad be released?" An alley, a prayer, a soundless wharf, A biting wind and a graveyard cough, A heap of rags and a starving child, Alas, alas for the undefiled! A heavy tide and a moon obscured, A shapeless mass of barges moored, Nor light, nor sound and a flood that gapes, A frowning pile of horrid shapes. All darkness, blackness, deep despair, "My burden is greater than I can bear!" A rolling river, the dead of night, A form all palsied with affright, Alone, yes, alone, yet so afraid, A hurried stride from that inky shade; On over the barges away from the shore, One breathless clasp, one long clasp more-- A heavy plunge and a gurgling groan, Two clammy corpses cold as stone, A brow distorted, a clenchd fist, A babe the Lord Himself has kissed.