Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

The Neglected Child.

Who still would linger by my side,

When slighter friends had flown,

Whose sighs and tears, whose hopes and fears,
Were shared with me alone:

I should be more the child, and less
The thoughtful girl than now;
For happy would the days pass by,
And bright would be my brow,
I then should seem as others seem,
As happy and as wild;
But now I own a lonely heart,
And am an only child.

PARTING GIFT.

THE NEGLECTED CHILD.

NEVER was a favourite,-

My mother never smiled

On me, with half the tenderness

That blessed her fairer child;

I've seen her kiss my sister's cheek,

While fondled on her knee;
I've turned away to hide my tears,—
There was no kiss for me!

And yet I strove to please with all
My little store of sense;
I strove to please,-and infancy
Can rarely give offence:
But when my artless efforts met
A cold, ungentle check,
I did not dare to throw myself
In tears upon her neck!

287

How blessed are the beautiful!

Love watches o'er their birth; Oh, beauty! in my nursery

I learned to know thy worth: For even there I often felt

Forsaken and forlorn;

And wished-for others wished it too

I never had been born!

I'm sure I was affectionate,—
But in my sister's face

There was a look of love, that claimed

A smile or an embrace;

But when I raised my lip, to meet

The pressure children prize, None knew the feelings of my heart, --They spoke not in my eyes.

But oh! that heart too keenly felt
The anguish of neglect;

I saw my sister's lovely form

With gems and roses decked:

I did not covet them but oft,
When wantonly reproved,

I envied her the privilege
Of being so beloved.

But soon a time of triumph came,—

A time of sorrow too;

For sickness o'er my sister's form

Her venomed mantle threw :

The features, once so beautiful,

Now wore the hue of death; And former friends shrank fearfully From her infectious breath.

The Sick Child.

Twas then, unwearied, day and night,

I watched beside her bed,
And fearlessly upon my breast
I pillowed her poor head.

She lived!—and loved me for my care!—

My grief was at an end;

289

I was a lonely being once,

But now I have a friend.

T. H. BAYLY.

THE SICK CHILD.

END down thy wingéd angel, God!

Amidst this night so wild,

And bid him come where now we watch,

And breathe upon our child!

She lies upon her pillow, pale,

And moans within her sleep,
Or wakeneth with a patient smile,
And striveth not to weep!

How gentle and how good a child
She is, we know too well;
And dearer to her parents' hearts

Than our weak words can tell.

We love, we watch throughout the night,
To aid, where need may be;

We hope, and have despaired at times;
But now we turn to Thee!

Send down thy sweet-souled angel, God!
Amidst the darkness wild,

And bid him soothe our souls to-night,

And heal our gentle child!

BARRY CORNWALL.

THE CHILD AND THE DEW-DROPS.

H father, dear father, why pass they away,
The dew-drops that sparkled at dawning of day
That glittered like stars by the light of the moon

Oh why are those dew-droops dissolving so soon?
Does the sun, in his wrath, chase their brightness away,
As though nothing that's lovely might live for a day?
The moon-light has faded—the flowers still remain,
But the dew has dried out of their petals again."

"My child," said the father, "look up to the skies,
Behold yon bright rainbow, those beautiful dyes;
There-there are the dew-drops in glory reset,
'Mid the jewels of heaven they are glittering yet.
Then are we not taught by each beautiful ray
To mourn not for beauty though fleeting away,

For though youth of its brightness and beauty be riven,
All that withers on earth blooms more brightly in Heaven?

Alas! for the father-how little knew he

The words he had spoken prophetic could be,

That the beautiful child-the bright star of his day—
Was e'en then, like the dew-drops, dissolving away.

The Child and the Angels.

Oh! sad was the father, when lo! in the skies

291

The rainbow again spread its beauteous dyes;
And then he remembered the maxims he'd given,
And thought of his child and the dew-drops-in Heaven.

CARPENTER.

THE CHILD AND THE ANGELS.

HE Sabbath's sun was setting low,

Amidst the clouds at even;

"Our Father," breathed a voice below,

"Father, who art in heaven."

Beyond the earth, beyond the clouds,

Those infant words were given; "Our Father," angels sang aloud, — "Father, who art in heaven."

“Thy kingdom come,” still from the ground
That child-like voice did pray;

"Thy kingdom come," God's host resound,

Far up the starry way.

"Thy will be done," with little tongue,

[ocr errors]

That lisping love implores;

'Thy will be done," the angelic throng

Sing from the heavenly shores.

"For ever," still those lips repeat,

Their closing evening prayer;
"For ever," floats in music sweet,
High 'midst the angels there.

CHARLES SWAIN.

« AnteriorContinuar »