POETRY.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2035, 1 September 1880, Page 3

POETRY.

THE DEEIN’ WIFE’S LAST REQUESTO tak’ mo in your arms, Jamie— Your doatin’, deein’ wife ! And lean my head upon your breast. As lang’s there’s only life. Your tears are fa’in’ burningly, I fin’ them on my cheek; But calm yoursel’, and whisper me— We hinna lang to speak. O monie, monie trystin’ nights I’ve stolen out in haste, A’ purity and happiness To meet you on the waste. Proud mither since and fonder wife, 'Tis hard to leave sae sune ; And fain the young heart wad rebel, But God’s will must be dune. In decent time ye’ll please yer folk, And seek some grander mate, But, O, wale ane o’ kindliness, Wha my orphans winna hate. And tell her that I blessed her A wee afore my death, And bequeathed my little bairnies Wi’ a mither’s deein’ breath. But when ye tak’ our fav’rita walk By the bonnie water-side. Ye’ll maybe hao a tear for me, Unnoticed o’ your bride. And should ye hae some ither young, O leave nae ours to pine ; But when she gi’ea her ain a piece Gie you a bit to mine. Ye’ve struggled sair wi’ poverty For makin’ me your ain ; But your braw frion’s ’ll come roon ye When the sair despised is gane. And noo I feel death’s creepin’ oauld— O lift them on the bed. Till I bless my little darlings Ere battling life has sped, I’ve maybe been ower proud o’ them, Ower careless o’ my God ! But there’s mercy for a mither’s love In Heaven’s chaat’nin rod. Now, Jamie, ca’ me ance again Your ain, your dearest wife ; And hauld me close and kiss me, love, The farewell kiss o’ life. Dark, dark, and cauld, I hear ye nae— O stay, my husband, stay ! Your hand—O yes —I feel, alas, ’Tis me that’s gaun away !