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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391834" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Drunkard's Child</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391834" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">He stood beside his dying child, <br>With a dim and bloodshot eye; <br>They'd won him from the haunts of vice <br>To see his first-born die. <br>He came with a slow and staggering tread, <br>A vague, unmeaning stare, <br>And, reeling, clasped the clammy hand, <br>So deathly pale and fair. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391834" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In a dark and gloomy chamber, <br>Life ebbing fast away, <br>On a coarse and wretched pallet, <br>The dying sufferer lay: <br>A smile of recognition <br>Lit up the glazing eye; <br>"I'm very glad," it seemed to say, <br>"You've come to see me die." </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391834" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">That smile reached to his callous heart, <br>It sealed fountains stirred; <br>He tried to speak, but on his lips <br>Faltered and died each word. <br>And burning tears like rain <br>Poured down his bloated face, <br>Where guilt, remorse and shame <br>Had scathed, and left their trace. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391834" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">"My father!" said the dying child, <br>(His voice was faint and low,) <br>"Oh! clasp me closely to your heart, <br>And kiss me ere I go. <br>Bright angels beckon me away, <br>To the holy city fair -- <br>Oh! tell me, Father, ere I go, <br>Say, will you meet me there?" </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=391834" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">He clasped him to his throbbing heart, <br>"I will! I will!" he said; <br>His pleading ceased -- the father held <br>His first-born and his dead! <br>The marble brow, with golden curls, <br>Lay lifeless on his breast; <br>Like sunbeams on the distant clouds <br>Which line the gorgeous west.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Frances+Ellen+Watkins+Harper">Frances Ellen Watkins Harper</a></strong></div>

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