The Inebriate's Daughter's Appeal To Her Father: Poem by Thomas Cowherd

One frosty night in bright moonlight,
I left my cheerful home;
My thoughts were such I cared not much
Which way I chanced to roam.
With firmest tread my way I thread
Through many a winding street
When drunkard's voice in tones not choice,
My startled ear did meet.

He cursed a girl whose hair in curl
Bespoke a tidy mother;
Whose clothes, though plain, wore not a stain,
Yet grief her words did smother
Her beauteous eyes told then no lies
While she looked at the man.
As nature brought the words she sought,
She this appeal began:

'Oh, father, leave this wretched place,
And hasten home with me;
For mother and the darling babe
Are in sad misery!
They have not tasted any food
Since morn of yesterday.
Yet you should hear that mother dear
For blessings on you pray.

'For when she prays aloud for you,
Her tears they flow apace,
And deepest crimson doth suffuse
Her ever lovely face.
She says that she must leave us all
Before 'tis very long,
To go to yonder Heaven above,
And join in Angel's song.

'And when she looks at our dear babe
Her tears flow forth again;
Yet never does she, father dear,
In words of you complain,
But says that she will try to make
A happy home for you.
Come ill, come well, whate'er betide,
She'll loving be and true.

'O, father, hasten with me, then,
Before my mother die!
When I left home, your charming boy
Most piteously did cry;
It would have moved a heart of stone
To see the tears he shed;
His shrieks make worse the dreadful pain
In mother's throbbing head!'

The drunkard stood in solemn mood,
In riveted attention.
This strong appeal did make him feel
Most serious apprehension.
He took the hand of maiden bland,
And hastened fast away;
Nor turned his face on that dread place
Which had made him its prey.

They reached the house where that dear spouse
Was breathing out her soul.
From sense of sin he rushes in,
Nor could himself control.
Upon his knees in agonies
He cries aloud, 'My wife,
Do speak to me, for I will be
A husband, dear, through life!'

No voice there came; the vital flame
Had fled, of child and mother.
He could not stay, so turned away,
With look that made me shudder.
That little girl with hair in curl
At last to him doth speak:
'My father dear, your heart I'll cheer,
And blessings for you seek.

'How We must pray, she taught the way
Who now has gone to bliss.
Nor would I be the least degree
In duty found remiss.'
Her artless strain made him refrain
From purposes most foul.
In after years she calmed his fears,
And saved at last his soul.

Analysis of this poem