31.12.2010, 18:41
THE SICK ORPHAN
Or the Couch in the open Air,
'Twas at the close of a warm summer's day,
We spread our orphan's couch in the sweet air;
And she was happy as the healthiest there ;
While, with each changing posture, as she lay,
A star, that lurk'd within the whispering firs,
Look'd forth upon her, glistening tenderly ;
' How like,' she said, ' a mother's watchful eye,
' That wakes and brightens, when her infant stirs ! '
She loved God's world, that maiden meek and mild ;
She challenged kith and kin on every hand.
Like Francis of Assisi—that dear child
Spoke sisterly of flowers and song-birds wild ;
Till every listener lost his self-command.
And o'er her dying love-notes wept and smiled
Or the Couch in the open Air,
'Twas at the close of a warm summer's day,
We spread our orphan's couch in the sweet air;
And she was happy as the healthiest there ;
While, with each changing posture, as she lay,
A star, that lurk'd within the whispering firs,
Look'd forth upon her, glistening tenderly ;
' How like,' she said, ' a mother's watchful eye,
' That wakes and brightens, when her infant stirs ! '
She loved God's world, that maiden meek and mild ;
She challenged kith and kin on every hand.
Like Francis of Assisi—that dear child
Spoke sisterly of flowers and song-birds wild ;
Till every listener lost his self-command.
And o'er her dying love-notes wept and smiled