The Wife's Dream
The Wife’s Dream. A Companion To The “Husband’s Dream.”
Pray, tell me, Mary, how it is, that you can look so gay,
When evening after evening, your husband is away;
I never see you sulk about nor say an angry word,
But still you’ve plenty cause for tears, if all be true I’ve heard.
It is because, my sister dear, a husband you’ve ne’er wed;
To see your children gathering round asking you for bread,
You ne’er can tell how it becomes a woman’s lot through life
To be, even to a drunkard’s life, a faithful loving wife.
But still I can recall the time when bitter tears I shed,
And, when my husband staggered home, what angry words I said;
I never thought I could be as cheerful as now I seem,
Yet this happy change was brought about by a simple little dream.
One eve as I sat waiting at our humble cottage door,
And listening for my husband’s steps, as oft I’d done before,
Some wicked thoughts came in my mind, and bitterly I said,
I never wish to see him more—I would that he were dead.
They say the wretched cannot rest, but sure it is not so,
For very soon I fell asleep, midst cares of grief and woe;
I dreamed I had my wish fulfilled—my husband was no more,
I fell upon his lifeless corpse, and kissed him o’er and o’er.
Dearest darling, speak to me, I meant not what I said,
Oh, speak one word unto your wife, say, say you are not dead!
Oh, sure I am not, Mary dear—I woke up with a scream,
And found my husband standing by—his death was but a dream.
Ever since that time, when’er I feel disposed to be unkind,
The warning of that fearful dream comes fresh into my mind;
Although it costs me many a pang to know the life he leads,
I strtve to greet him with a smile when oft my poor heart bleeds.
I’ll humbly put my trust in God, and ask for strength to bear
The trials he has sent on earth for all of us to share;
And if, by patience, I should change my husband’s wandering life,
I’ll bless the hour that dream was sent to his neglected wife.