Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1886-07-19
A Temperance Story.
GFoR THE MoNIToRf


A Young man stood with glass in hand,
Filled full with ruby wine.
Around him gathered many friends.
And bright lights brightly shine.
Close by his side lady stood
With meek and gentle air.
She wore a robe of fleecy white,
And blossoms in her hair.
She was his wife. An hour before
She pledged her life with his,
And promised e'er to cling to him
Thro' scenes of woe or bliss;
And here, at this gay marriage feast
Is served rare, costly wine,
As at that other marriage feast,
In olden Palestine.
The toast is drank. The empty glass
Is placed upon the board,
And no one sees the serpent's head
As the red wine is poured.
All joy, all gladness. Not cloud
Dims their fair summer sky,
And mirth and music fill the house
AS happy hours fit by.
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Again we draw the curtain and
A beauteous home is there,
With carpets soft and curtains fine,
And flowers rich and rare.
Books and fine pictures grace the walls,
ALPS there that wealth can buy,
And mid the scene a lady sits
With sad and thoughtful eye.
Alone, and as the moments fly
With swift and noiseless tread,
She lists for Charities football, with
A chilling, nameless dread.
And now she hears him, and her face
With joy grows warm and bright.
She hastes to meet him at the door
With heart now gay and light.
But see! That kiss of greeting, has
1t turned her into stone?
The words of welcome on her lips
Have changed into groan.
With trembl ing hand she leads him in
Beside the warm freight,
And bitterly she watches him
Thro' all that dreary night.
Why longer dwell ON that sad scene?
Her hopes fled one by one;
She saw her husband, rapidly,
The drunkard's path go down;
Still down their pathway led
Until the drunkard's wife and child
Suffered for fire and bread.
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The night is cold, and dark and drear,
The wind walls mournfully,
The shutters rattle in the wind,
The snow flies fitfully.
Within the drunkards dreary home
No light or fire is seen;
The shivering mother colder grows
The night air is so keen.
Close to her aching, breaking heart,
Aching with grief and cold,
She folds her dying little one
To shield it from the cold.
In thro' the broken window frame,
And thro' the battered door,
The crystal snowfakes come and form
carpet on the floor.
Softer than softest velvet, and
OF pattern from the skies,
Pure as mothers love, and fair
As dreams of Paradise.
Woven by hands of angels, who
Are ring round the place.
Watching with pitying eyes of love
The mothers pallid face.
Father in heaven!" she sobbing cries,
"Dear Father, take us home,
Home where no storms, OF cold, or snow,
Or rum can ever come.
And though we die in misery,
Oh, Heavenly Father! save
Him who brought this upon us, from
A drunkards fearful grave"
Faint grew her voice. Low dropped her head.
She sank upon the floor.
The drnnkard's starved and frozen wife
Win pray for him no more.
Never again will they two meet
Till resurrection morn,
When all must stand together, by
Gods beautiful white throne.
Within a warmed and lighted room
Were merry song and jest.
The dice-boX ratified mockingly,
As singers paused for rest.
Once more we see young man stand
With wine glass in his hand,
senseless toast is on his lips,
He grasps chair to stand.
What is it makes him tremble so,
And pales his mgh-fiushed face?
What makes him set the wine glass down
And hasten from the place?
Is it his Mary's spirit on
Its way to realms above,
Whispering to him of dangers in
The warning tones of love?
Whate'er it be, he homeward goes.
We know what waits him there.
He finds his loved ones lying dead,
And weeps in anguish sore.
And Mary's prayer found answer true,
For never from that hour
Did demon, DRINK, regain DER him
Its always fearful power.
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Charlie. to-day, is sleeping with
His loved ones meath the sod.
Repentant, humble, trustingly,
His soul went up to God.
And think He who loves US and
Knows all our doubts and fears
Will look compassionately down
On Charities wicked years.
And, somewhere, up in heaven, where
The summers never end,
Each broken link is mended in
The chain of love they planned,
Before the curse of nations lured
The loving heart astray,
And there we hope to meet them, when
We, too, cross deaths dark sea.