AT LAST

A dark, tempestuous night; the stars shut in

With shrouds of fog; an inky, jet-black blot

The firmament; and where the moon has been

An hour agone seems like the darkest spot.

The weird wind — furious at its demon game —

Rattles one's fancy like a window-frame.

A care-worn face peers out into the dark,

And childish faces — frightened at the gloom —

Grow awed and vacant as they turn to mark

The father's as he passes through the room:

The gate latch clatters, and wee baby Bess

Whispers, “The doctor's tummin’ now, I dess!”

The father turns; a sharp, swift flash of pain

Flits o'er his face: “Amanda, child! I said

A moment since — I see I must AGAIN —

Go take your little sisters off to bed!

There, Effie, Rose, and CLARA MUSTN'T CRY!”

“I ta n't he'p it — I'm fyaid‘ at mama'll die!”

What are his feelings, when this man alone

Sits in the silence, glaring in the grate

That sobs and sighs on in an undertone

As stoical — immovable as Fate,

While muffled voices from the sick one's room

Come in like heralds of a dreaded doom?

The door-latch jingles: in the doorway stands

The doctor, while the draft puffs in a breath —

The dead coals leap to life, and clap their hands,

The flames flash up. A face as pale as death

Turns slowly — teeth tight clenched, and with a look

The doctor, through his specs, reads like a book.

“Come, brace up, Major!” — “Let me know the worst!”

“W'y you're the biggest fool I ever saw —

Here, Major — take a little brandy first —

There! She's a BOY — I mean HE is — hurrah!”

“Wake up the other girls — and shout for joy —

Eureka is his name — I've found A BOY!”