Smyrna times., 1882-05-03
A CRY FOR HELP.
ADELAIDE V. COOKE.

ADELAIDE V. COOKE
sat in my own place tonight,
Within the window wide
And watched with eager happy eyes
With loving, tender pride,
To see him come, no was to me
Dear as my very life
To whom, thought ere long to be
true and treasured wife.
wore the flowers he calls his choice
But knew in either cheek.
Faint roses bluShed which to his eyes
Would warmer welcome speak
step upon the gravel walk
hastened to the door
o! will the burden of that hour
BE lifted never more?
1t he had come to say to me-
e I've lost my all-Tm puor-~
Vanished the wealth meant for you
The home, I thought secure
All that proudly offered you.
BY one fell chance is gone"
should have held him dearer still.
And faithfully loved on.
Or. had he said I'm wounded. see!
Gone is my good right arm,
How can promise IT, protect;
How shield you from all HARM
If he had said. Dear. am blind
Stone blind, for you to lead.
helpless, crippled thing through life"
All that wer. slight indeed
Or this: My honest name is gone.
Men scoff and sneer at me,
dare not ask you bear part
Of what must fall on me-"
would have shared it all. and more,
whole worlds singing ScOrn
could have gladly shared, and felt
II nothing to bv borne.
If but alone his soul escaped,
If only might see,
Its purity and worth intact.
That were enough for me.
But thiS--O cruel hurt to see
Him stand the slave of wine.
To have his fevered poisoned lips
StuOp down. assured, to mine.
To shrink in trembling fear and dread.
Away from his rareNs.
To drain in one long bitter draught
This cup of wretrhedness.
o. Death in whom thought we had.
Our most relentless foe.
Whuse stroke would part our lives too soon
A deadlier foe know.
After my weeping long and vain.
My eyes are dry at last
o! long and weary hours of night.
How slow We lOiter past
And yet the morning skies Will smile
The same nor care. nor know,
How much of woe and wretchedness,
And pain is here below.
Still men will make. and buy, and sell,
And drink Eternal Death
And what availS against it all
wOman's feeble breath?
What is my cry of anguish worth,
| My fearful sense of harm?
o. men! Ie men with influence.
Ring out your loud alarm
Is there no trace of runs fell work
| Seen in your homes to-day?
Is there no still-hOuse worm which works
A sure and swift decay?
Is there no grand and noble soul.
Which should be pure and strong.
Which should be making life itself,
A grand triumphant song,
Wasting itself in revelery.
With curses for refrain.
Shattering sweetest harmOnies,
Which may not blend again?
! All, me! the binding biistering tears
We hel pless women shed,
Who weep not Der fresh turned sod.
But Ger our living dead
And II who take your social drink,
One glass. or two or three,
ask you. can you dare to say,
You do no harm u me?
If that one glass tempts 10 his death
My brother or my friend;
If that one glass you safely drink
Another soul may send
Down. By a swift and sure approach.
To everlasting woe.
Say yur, you have "A right to it %
Ny anguish soul cries No!
"Out Of the depths" | cry tonight,
l cry, .. men to you;
You are the sOvereigns of this land
ask, what will you do?
For my souls sake, my broken heart.
And other hearts like mine,
o. speed the day by word and will,
The coming glorious time.
When this foul twin of slavery.
r With slavery lies slain,
And Rachels yet uncontrolled
Look up and smile again.