(1 October 1832 – 8 June 1884 / Middletown, Connecticut)

Come Home, Father!

'Tis The
SONG OF LITTLE MARY,
Standing at the bar-room door
While the shameful midnight revel
Rages wildly as before.

Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes one;
You said you were coming right home from the shop,
As soon as your day's work was done.
Our fire has gone out our house is all dark
And mother's been watching since tea, --
With poor brother Benny so sick in her arms,
And no one to help her but me. --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --

Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."

Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes two;
The night has grown colder, and Benny is worse
But he has been calling for you.
Indeed he is worse Ma says he will die,
Perhaps before morning shall dawn; --
And this is the message she sent me to bring
"Come quickly, or he will be gone." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --

Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."

Father, dear father, come home with me now!
The clock in the steeple strikes three;
The house is so lonely the hours are so long
For poor weeping mother and me.
Yes, we are alone poor Benny is dead,
And gone with the angels of light; --
And these were the very last words that he said
"I want to kiss Papa good night." --
Come home! come home! come home! --
Please, father, dear father, come home. --

Hear the sweet voice of the child
Which the night winds repeat as they roam!
Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers?
"Please, father, dear father, come home."

User Rating: 2,7 / 5 ( 52 votes ) 10

Comments (10)

This one is a real heartbreaker. Drunken bum didn't even care that his own son was dying!
The poem creates an atmosphere akin to a tale of mystery and then giving it an emotional touch, thus, it becomes a very sad and poignant. Thanks.
Hear the sweet voice of the child Which the night winds repeat as they roam! Oh who could resist this most plaintive of prayers? Please, father, dear father, come home.... touching lines with nice theme. Congratulation to his soul for being selected this poem as the poem of the day.
The house is so lonely the hours are so long For poor weeping mother and me. Beautiful lines. Thanks for the sharing.10.
I couldn't finish it. I thought it was a temperance poem, a movement for which I have the greatest disdain. But the author's dates are on the early side for that in the main. Reading his bio notes I see he was a strong abolitionist supporter, and those were people for whom I have the highest admiration. Oh well. You can't win 'em all.
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