Our Children's Songs With Illustrations

200 Children's Song Lyrics, incuding Christian Hymns - online songbook

Home Main Menu Singing & Playing Order & Order Info Support Search Easter Hymns



Share page  Visit Us On FB

Previous Contents Next
SONGS FOE GIRLHOOD.
121
And the women are weeping, and wringing their hands, For those who will never come home to the town. But men must work, and women must weep, And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep, And good-bye to the bar and its moaning.
Who was her father?
Who was her mother ? Had she a sister ?
Had she a brother ? Or was there a nearer one Still, or a dearer oue
Yet, than all other ?
Alas for the rarity Of Christian charity
Under the sun ! Oh, it Avas pitiful! Near a whole city full,
Home she had none!
Sisterly, brotherly, Fatherly, motherly,
Feelings had changed ; Love by harsh evidence Thrown from its eminence, Even God's providence
Seeming estranged.
Where the lamps quiver So far in the river,
With many a light, From many a casement, From garret to basement, She stood with amazement,
Houseless, by night.
The bleak winds of March
Made her tremble and shiver, But not the dark arch
Or the black flowing river. Mad from life's history, Glad to death's mystery,
Swift to be hurled Anywhere! anywhere
Out of the world !
In she plunged boldly, No matter how coldly
The rough river ran; Over the brink of it: Picture it�think of it,
Dissolute man ! Lave in it�drink of it,
Then, if you can.
Take her up tenderly, Lift her with care,
THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS. Thomas Hood.
One more unfortunate,
Weary of breath, Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death.
Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care ; Fashioned so slenderly,
Young, and so fair!
Look at her garments Clinging like cerements; While the wave constantly
Drips from her clothing; Take her up instantly,
Loving, not loathing.
Touch her not scornfully; Think of her mournfully ;
Gently and hunianly; Not of the stains of her; All that remains of her
Now is pure womanly!
Make no deep scrutiny Into her mutiuy
Rash and uudutiful; Past all dishonor, Death has left on her
Only the beautiful.
Still, for all slips of hers,
One of Eve's family ; Wipe those poor lips of hers
Oozing so clammily. Loop up her tresses,
Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses ; While wonderment guesses
Where was her home ?







E-Book - An Annotated Compendium of Old Time American Songs by James Alverson III