Last night, when I was listenin’ <br />Alone, to wind and rain, <br />He took the chair beside me, <br />Himself - come home again. <br /> <br />His kind blue eyes were smilin’ <br />Beneath his thatch of grey, <br />He laid his hand on my hand, <br />The ould sweetheartin’ way. <br /> <br />I pressed my cheek upon it, <br />Remembering bitterly <br />The times he faced his daily toil <br />Without one smile from me. <br /> <br />And yet, his meals were always good, <br />His clothes well kept and clean, <br />The neighbours, sure, will tell you, <br />The splendid wife I’ve been. <br /> <br />But in Life’s stress and struggle, <br />We somehow, grew apart, <br />You know these Irish mothers, <br />'Tis “the childer” has their heart. <br /> <br />And he grew grim, and close-lipped, <br />And harder, day by day, <br />Poor man - too tired for laughter, <br />Too worried to be gay. <br /> <br />But - how his care enclosed us, <br />For all he was so grim, <br />The very rafters of our home <br />Were cut and laid by him. <br /> <br />And I, that might have cheered him, <br />The bitter words I said, <br />Oh! God, that we remember, <br />Only when they are dead. <br /> <br />But now - my arms were round him, <br />The room seemed full of flowers, <br />And Youth came back and sunshine, <br />That glorious time was ours. <br /> <br />The firelight flamed and flickered, <br />The embers fell apart, <br />I woke to empty silence, <br />With sorrow at my heart. <br /> <br />The wild winds brought the morning, <br />The dawn was red and chill, <br />And Himself was lyin’ sleepin’ <br />In the graveyard on the hill!<br /><br />Alice Guerin Crist<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/himself-6/
