Page:The city of dreadful night - and other poems (IA cityofdreadfulni00thomrich).pdf/164

 She smiled a scornful virtuous smile, He flung good books with curses vile. Fresh with the early morn she rose, While he yet lay in a feverish doze: She prayed for blessings from the Throne, He called for "a hair of the dog" with a groan: She blessed God for her strength to bear The heavy load,—he 'gan to swear: She sighed, Would Heaven, ere yet too late, Bring him to see his awful state! The charity thus sweetly pressed Made him rage like one possessed.

So she grew holier day by day, While he grew all the other way. She left him: she had done her part To wean from sin his sinful heart, But all in vain; her presence might Make him a murderer some mad night. Her family took her back, pure saint, Serene in soul, above complaint: The narrow path she strictly trod, And went in triumph home to God: While he into the Union fell, Our halfway house on the road to Hell. With which would you rather pass your life The wicked husband or saintly wife?