The Night Light, by Archie Naish

The Night Light, by Archie Naish

I've been thinking of the home where my early years were spent

'Neath the care of a kind maiden aunt,

And to go there once again has often been my intent,

But the railways fare's expensive, so I can't.

Still, I never can forget that night when last we met.

'Oh, promise me - whate'er you do,' she said,

'Wear flannel next your chest, and, when you go to rest

Keep a night-light always burning by your bed.'

And my eyes are dim and wet,

For I seem to hear them yet,

Those solemn words of parting that she said.

'Now mind you burn a night-light,

'Twill last until it's quite-light

In a saucerful of water by your bed.'

I promised as she wished, and her tears I gently dried

As she gave me all the halfpence that she had.

And through the world e'er since, I have wandered far and wide,

And been gradually going to the bad.

Many a folly, many a crime, I've committed in my time,

For a lawless and a chequered life I've led.

Still I've kept the promise sworn, flannel next my skin I've worn,

And I've always burnt a night-light by my bed.

All unhallowed my pursuits (Oft to bed I've been in boots),

Still o'er my uneasy slumber has been shed

The moderately bright light

Afforded by a night-light

In a saucerful of water by my bed.

A little while ago, in a dream my aunt I saw

In her frill-surrounded night-cap there she stood.

And I sought to hide my head 'neath the counterpane in awe,

And I trembled - for my conscience isn't good.

But her countenance was mild - so indulgently she smiled

That I knew there was no further need for dread.

She had seen the flannel vest enveloping my chest

And the night-light in its saucer by my bed.

But ere a word she spoke I unhappily awoke

And away, alas, the beauteous vision sped.

There was nothing but the slight light

Of the melancholy night-light

That was burning on a saucer by my bed.