Poems (Barker)/The Drunkard's Child
The Drunkard's Child.
The "Storm-king" was raging, the shadows of night.
Crept over the village and hid all the light,
Each curtain was drawn, the wind hurried by,
And to the tired passer, gave only a sigh;
When slowly and sadly, rose up on the air
A tiny child's voice, as she uttered a prayer.
A stranger in hurrying so rapidly past,
Heard the words that she tremblingly murmured at last.
"Kind Father have mercy, this storm is so wild,
Oh pity poor Minnie, the drunkards's lone child."
Crept over the village and hid all the light,
Each curtain was drawn, the wind hurried by,
And to the tired passer, gave only a sigh;
When slowly and sadly, rose up on the air
A tiny child's voice, as she uttered a prayer.
A stranger in hurrying so rapidly past,
Heard the words that she tremblingly murmured at last.
"Kind Father have mercy, this storm is so wild,
Oh pity poor Minnie, the drunkards's lone child."
The stranger drew near her, she knelt all alone,
The blast as it passed her, bore only a moan;
The slight form was bent, as in pleading and prayer,
While the clouds slowly rifted, he saw she was fair;
And bending above her, he tenderly said,
"Poor child, come with me," but she raised her young head—
"No, thank you, I can not; my father is here,
And though he's a drunkard, oh sir! he is dear.
I'm used to the storm, be it lonely and wild,
No one waits here for father, but Minnie his child.
The blast as it passed her, bore only a moan;
The slight form was bent, as in pleading and prayer,
While the clouds slowly rifted, he saw she was fair;
And bending above her, he tenderly said,
"Poor child, come with me," but she raised her young head—
"No, thank you, I can not; my father is here,
And though he's a drunkard, oh sir! he is dear.
I'm used to the storm, be it lonely and wild,
No one waits here for father, but Minnie his child.
The stranger reached out for the door of the place
That brings oh! so many to sin and disgrace.
He opened the way to a dark, dingy room,
But the door stood ajar, like the door of a tomb,
That led to another, and here gathered 'round,
With singing and laughter to shut out the sound
Of the storm as it hurried so piteously on,
As it even this place of destruction to shun,
Were the drunkard's companions, while Minnie, poor child,
Was waiting without, in the tempest so wild.
That brings oh! so many to sin and disgrace.
He opened the way to a dark, dingy room,
But the door stood ajar, like the door of a tomb,
That led to another, and here gathered 'round,
With singing and laughter to shut out the sound
Of the storm as it hurried so piteously on,
As it even this place of destruction to shun,
Were the drunkard's companions, while Minnie, poor child,
Was waiting without, in the tempest so wild.
He hurried away with a sigh from the place
When he saw one form sleeping the sleep of disgrace;
He knew it was death that had stamped that cold brow,
Though the drunkard's companions thought not of it now;
And sitting down near her, he drew her to him,
The lamp of her life, growing momently dim.
"Dear Minnie," he whispered, "I've sad news to tell,
But you know that your Father in Heaven doeth well;
You never need wait in the cold bitter rain,
Your father is free from this earth and its pain."
When he saw one form sleeping the sleep of disgrace;
He knew it was death that had stamped that cold brow,
Though the drunkard's companions thought not of it now;
And sitting down near her, he drew her to him,
The lamp of her life, growing momently dim.
"Dear Minnie," he whispered, "I've sad news to tell,
But you know that your Father in Heaven doeth well;
You never need wait in the cold bitter rain,
Your father is free from this earth and its pain."
He drew her up close to his broad loving breast,
And thought of his daughter, forever at rest,
When softly she whispered, "please sir, can I see
What once was my father, oh! now he is free.
The stranger looked down on the pure upturned face,
Then thinking "her spirit will brighten the place,"
He opened the door, without thinking of fear,
To the cold senseless form, she quickly drew near,
"Where father has gone, there no storm rages wild,
He is calling me gently, "come Minnie, my child."
And thought of his daughter, forever at rest,
When softly she whispered, "please sir, can I see
What once was my father, oh! now he is free.
The stranger looked down on the pure upturned face,
Then thinking "her spirit will brighten the place,"
He opened the door, without thinking of fear,
To the cold senseless form, she quickly drew near,
"Where father has gone, there no storm rages wild,
He is calling me gently, "come Minnie, my child."
Then kneeling, she tenderly laid her young face
Close up to the one deeply stamped with disgrace,
And awed into stillness by presence of death,
They silently waited, each holding their breath.
That night up in Heaven, where all is so fair,
A bright little spirit with soft golden hair
Led a dark form along, till she bowed at the cross,
And whispered, "dear Jesus it was through thy loss
So many were purified, earth's sea was wild,
Take my father, dear Savior, and Minne, his child!"
Close up to the one deeply stamped with disgrace,
And awed into stillness by presence of death,
They silently waited, each holding their breath.
That night up in Heaven, where all is so fair,
A bright little spirit with soft golden hair
Led a dark form along, till she bowed at the cross,
And whispered, "dear Jesus it was through thy loss
So many were purified, earth's sea was wild,
Take my father, dear Savior, and Minne, his child!"