THE ORPHANS. 105 THE ORPHANS. My chaise the village inn did gain, Across the way I silent sped, The time till supper to beguile, In moralizing o'er the dead, That mouldered round that ancient pile. There many an humble green grave show'd O'er those who once had wealth possess❜d. A faded beech its shadow brown Threw o'er a grave where sorrow slept, A piece of bread between them lay, "My little children, let me know, Why you in such distress appear, And why you wasteful from you throw That bread which many a heart would cheer." The little boy, in accents sweet, Replied, while tears each other chased,— Lady, we 've not enough to eat, And if we had, we would not waste. "But sister Mary's naughty grown, And will not eat, whate'er I say, Though sure I am the bread 's her own, For she has tasted none to-day." "Indeed," the wan, starved Mary said, "Till Henry eats, I'll eat no more, For yesterday I got some bread He's had none since the day before." My heart did swell, my bosom heave, I silent sat upon the grave, And press'd the clay-cold hand of each. With looks that told a tale of woe, With looks that spoke a grateful heart, THE ORPHANS. "Before my father went away, Enticed by bad men o'er the sea, Sister and I did nought but play— We lived beside yon great ash-tree. "But then poor mother did so cry, And looked so changed, I cannot tell; She told us that she soon should die, And bade us love each other well. "She said that when the war was o'er, Perhaps we might our father see, But if we never saw him more, That GOD our father still would be! She kissed us both, and then she died, "But when my father came not here, "We hand in hand went many a mile, 107 "But when we reached the sea, and found "T was a great water round us spread, We thought that father must be drowned, And cried, and wished we both were dead. "So we returned to mother's grave, And only long with her to be; "Then since no parent here we have, That GOD, our Father, may be found. "He lives in heaven, mother said, And Goody says that mother's there, So, if she knows we want His aid, I think perhaps she 'll send Him here.” I clasped the prattlers to my breast, And cried," Come both and live with me, I'll clothe you, feed you, give you rest, And will a second mother be. "And God will be your Father still; 'Twas He in mercy sent me here, To teach you to obey His will, Your steps to guide, your hearts to cheer." WE ARE SEVEN. WE ARE SEVEN. A SIMPLE child, That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death? I met a little cottage girl: She was eight years old, she said; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, "Sisters and brothers, little maid, "And where are they? I pray you tell;" And two are gone to sea. "Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother; 109 |