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25
THE DRUNKARD'S WIFE.
(originally written for a "temperance journal.")

'Tis midnight! and the heavy hours roll on
With tardy course, with lingering lazy wing,
And wearied man to seek repose is gone,
To sooth in sleep the wounds of sorrow's sting.

Forlorn and solitary here I sit,
Beside my desolated hearth alone;
Dark thoughts across my tortured fancy flit,
And joy hath fled,—n ay, even hope is gone.

Why comes he not! my own, my trusted one,
Round whom my heart's affections fondly twine?
Why does he leave me thus unheard to mourn,
And watch, with anguished heart, night's slow decline?

Retentive memory wandering to the past,—
Brings back the days when first my youthful heart
Felt that affection which through life must last,
And only with its latest throb depart.

'Twas then I vowed to share his joy and woe,
And he to bear with me the ills of life,
To be my friend and guardian here below,
And I to be his ever faithful wife.