* * * * *
THE WATCHMAN'S LAMENT.
As homeward I hurried, within "The Wen,"
At midnight, all alone.
My knees, like the knees of a drunken man,
Foreboding shook, and my eyes began
To see two lamps for one.
The lights burnt blue, as they're wont to do
When Spirits are in the wind.
Ho! ho! thought I, that's an ominous hue,
And a glance on either side I threw,
But I fear'd to look behind.
A smell, as of gas, spread far and wide,
But sulphur it was, I knew;
My sight grew dim, and my tongue was tied,
And I thought of my home, and my sweet fireside,
And the friends I had left at loo!
And I took once more a hurried peep
Along and across the street,
And then I beheld a figure creep,
Like a man that is walking in his sleep,
Or a watchman on his beat.
A lantern, dangling in the wind,
He bore, and his shaggy and thick
Great-coat was one of the dread-nought kind,--
What seem'd his right hand trail'd behind
The likeness of a stick.
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