At Last

A dark, tempestuous night; the stars shut in         With shrouds of fog; an inky, jet-black blot     The firmament; and where the moon has been         An hour agone seems like the darkest spot.     The weird wind - furious at its demon game -     Rattles one's fancy like a window-frame.     A care-worn face peers out into the dark,         And childish faces - frightened at the gloom -     Grow awed and vacant as they turn to mark         The father's as he passes through the room:     The gate latch clatters, and wee baby Bess     Whispers, "The doctor's tummin' now, I dess!"     The father turns; a sharp, swift flash of pain         Flits o'er his face: "Amanda, child! I said     A moment since - I see I must AGAIN -         Go take your little sisters off to bed!     There, Effie, Rose, and CLARA MUSTN'T CRY!"     "I tan't he'p it - I'm fyaid 'at mama'll die!"     What are his feelings, when this man alone         Sits in the silence, glaring in the grate     That sobs and sighs on in an undertone         As stoical - immovable as Fate,     While muffled voices from the sick one's room     Come in like heralds of a dreaded doom?     The door-latch jingles: in the doorway stands         The doctor, while the draft puffs in a breath -     The dead coals leap to life, and clap their hands,         The flames flash up.    A face as pale as death     Turns slowly - teeth tight clenched, and with a look     The doctor, through his specs, reads like a book.     "Come, brace up, Major!" - "Let me know the worst!"         "W'y you're the biggest fool I ever saw -     Here, Major - take a little brandy first -         There!    She's a BOY - I mean HE is - hurrah!"     "Wake up the other girls - and shout for joy -     Eureka is his name - I've found A BOY!"