| |
| HE comes not—I have watch’d the moon go down, | |
| But yet he comes not—Once it was not so. | |
| He thinks not how these bitter tears do flow, | |
| The while he holds his riot in that town. | |
| Yet he will come, and chide, and I shall weep; | 5 |
| And he will wake my infant from its sleep, | |
| To blend its feeble wailing with my tears. | |
| O! how I love a mother’s watch to keep, | |
| Over those sleeping eyes, that smile, which cheers | |
| My heart, though sunk in sorrow, fix’d and deep. | 10 |
| I had a husband once, who loved me—now | |
| He ever wears a frown upon his brow, | |
| And feeds his passion on a wanton’s lip, | |
| As bees, from laurel flowers, a poison sip; | |
| But yet I cannot hate—O! there were hours, | 15 |
| When I could hang for ever on his eye, | |
| And time who stole with silent swiftness by, | |
| Strew’d, as he hurried on, his path with flowers. | |
| I loved him then—he loved me too—My heart | |
| Still finds its fondness kindle, if he smile; | 20 |
| The memory of our loves will ne’er depart; | |
| And though he often sting me with a dart, | |
| Venom’d and barb’d, and waste upon the vile, | |
| Caresses which his babe and mine should share; | |
| Though he should spurn me, I will calmly bear | 25 |
| His madness—and should sickness come, and lay | |
| Its paralyzing hand upon him, then | |
| I would, with kindness, all my wrongs repay, | |
| Until the penitent should weep, and say, | |
| How injured, and how faithful I had been. | 30 |
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