THE ORPHAN GIRL.
Whil'st walking down the street one day, I happened for to see,
A poor, half starring little girl, who with pity looked at me;
She asked me, if I would give her a penny for some bread,
She said, that she was homeless, and nowhere to lay her head.
I said, " Explain the reason, child, why you have got no home.
And why in such a ragged state about the streets you roam;
So young, and yet so beautiful, 'mid'st sin and danger hurled,
With no one for to guide your steps, through this sin-tempting world?"
"Kind sir, an orphan I was left when I was very young,
I've never known the pleasure of a loving parent's tongue;
No home have I, where I might rest my weary limbs a while,
No loving sister's welcome word, no loving brother's smile.
I wander in those tattered rags, through Winter's cold and snow,
I have no friends to shelter me, and where am I to go?
An outcast In this cruel world, the thought oft drives me wild,
For no one will have pity on a homeless orphan child."
Oft'times I get a passing glimpse, of some fire burning bright,
With merry children sitting round, oh, what a pleasant sight!
The cheerful glow the fire sends forth, doth brighten up the scene,
Whilst I must wander all alone, through frost and snow so keen.
Had I but wings, that I might fly to that bright realm above,
Then all my sorrows would be o'er, I'd dwell with Him I love;
True happiness alone reigns there, no troubles there are known,
In peace and joy they reign with Him, around the heavenly throne."
Her words they touched me to the heart, I meditating stood,
And gazed upon her feeble form, in a dreamy sort of mood;
A vision flashed acrosaed my mind, a vision from of yore,
My mother's last words unto me, " be kind unto the poor."
I took her to my home, and clothed her tattered form so bare,
I tended on her as she grew, in beauty pure and rare;
To end my tale, I loved her, so tender, meek and mild,
And now she's mistress of my house, though once an orphan child.