Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1874-12-23
To an attic room, that is bare and cold,

To an attic ROOM that is bare and cold
Comes the midnight bell, where woman lone,
With starving babe and hopeless moan,
Is upraising face that is pinched and old.
~Starving o God! and the bitter cold
Pier cing nay garments, so thin and old!
No food no fire and nv wasting child
Dying of want yet the Saviour smiled
With tender grace, in the years long dead,
Smiled in his love as he bowed his head,
To take them up to his yearnlng breast
The feeble ones; and the worldless rest
OF boundless love the sad eyes filled.
Sta rving God ! and the night has chilled
Me through and through; = and the midnight
chime,
With its memories of the oden time,
Is mocking me, as watch alone
BY the dying child and nv tortured moan
No pity brings but I only hear,
As the winter night with its lonely fear
Comes down from my easement high,
The icy wind as it busters by
And the bell afar, and the drunken shout
On the midnight darkness ringing out. y
Friendless and lonely the Christmas joy
Is not for the poor, my dying boy!"
The softened CLEAN of the gas-light's fame
Is gli1nmering in mansion where
In joyous dance are the young and fair,
And queenly forms, and the men of fame,
And JOY and bealth and the flushing face,
With red lips kissing the sparkling wine =
And jeweled fingers the goblets twine,
That are pledged to youth with woman's grace.
A bloated face from across the street,
With drunken stare on the scene within,
And a brow deep stamped with the print of sin,
Is muttering at the dancing feet:
"Aye, quaf, poor FOOLS from the goblet
While stand here in my rags and laugh.
Ye see not the demon form within
The wine cups blood, nor the hideous grin
OF the devil faces beneath the wine.
Your eyes see the cup that is red, but mine
See the death within, and the grim despair,
And the wrecks of hopes that are hidden there.
Youth, and hope, and the weaving dance,
And the bloed-red wine and the wtching glance
OF wonlan's eye!-Oh, it seems to nae
As linger here in my misery,
sCursing the nighttime, cursing the sky,
Cursing the years that are passing by,
That ages have come and have gone their way,
And earth has grown hoary, and skies turned gray,
Since, young and honored, with many a friend,
1 joyed in my strength but the bitter end
That comes at last to the Powered path
OF the wine-fend's way, and the falling wrath
OF days of horror beneath his spell,
I could not see. Now know that hell
Waits not afer for the drunkard's death.
And oh! 1 am burning with every breath!
Burning burning! My God! the mist,
As it sweeps by me, for the moment Kissed
As it touched my forehead; and yet the cold
Has shriveled my skin, and vainly fold
My garments closely about my frame, q -
/ am burning up with an icy flame.
And woman's hand was the hand that first
Pledged me the wine; and now I'm athirst 70
With the raging thirst of the drunkards craze.
Curse me, o God curse the light of the days
When trod like fool in the lowered PATH
Curse it, O God! with the curse of Thy wrath
Curse me the face of my parent earth
And curse, as curse, the day of my birth
Curse-nay, nay, scar the tongue in my mouth
And smite me with death, ere my impious mouth
Shall say one word Of the mother who bore
Me in her pain.
Yet oh, evermore
Bless her Oh bless her! though ever on me
Thy wrath may fall. May she never see,
know doom of
Alone stand in the chilly street,
Drunken, unknown and the flying feet
OF the dancing throng, with their midnight glee,
In my misery hooking me.
dare not think, as gaze within,
Of what anl--what might have been.
/ turn my back to my drink and yet,
Pity me COD. l drink-and forget"