Hark! tis the clock at midnight and the poor deserted wife,
She watches for the one who vowed to cherish her,
Alas! the victim once the fairest of the fair,
Is crushed and broken hearted;
Yet she soothes her babe upon her breast,
And as the clock struck two,
Her sad, sad tale of deep distress,
In accents low she drew.
How slowly wear away the hours;
Hark! mournful wails the wind,
See, see the sky, how dark it lowers,
No light to cheer my mind.
That he could leave me thus alone,
My husband! -once he loved,
Alas! that early dream has flown
And my poor heart is seared.
Another hour! I mourn it not,
And yet he may return,
O! that he would and cheer my lot,
IN this dark lonely world,
His kindly smile I see it now;
How fond it beamed on me
When first his love in accents low,
Fell on my willing ear.
O! hush my babe, my only child
Cold, cold! thy pulse beat slow,
Chilled by the blast of winter wild,
You'll leave me soon I know.
Spare, spare, O God my lovely flow'r,
And yet why wish it here,
Where nought but clouds above us lower,
O! take us Father home.
The clock strikes four and death has set,
His seal upon her breast,
The child and mother both have left
A cheerless world for heaven.
The husband came but all was drear
With in his lonely home,
The tender babe and wife so near
Were wrapt in death's cold arms.
Woodbury, I. B., "Deserted Wife" (1849). Historic Sheet Music Collection. 819.
The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.