Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/324

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THE ORPHANS.
Across the way I silent sped, The time till supper to beguileIn moralising o'er the dead That mouldered round the ancient pile.
There many a humble green grave showed Where want, and pain, and toil did rest;And many a flattering stone I viewed O'er those who once had wealth possest.
A faded beech its shadow brown Threw o'er a grave where sorrow slept,On which, though scarce with grass o'ergrown, Two ragged children sat and wept.
A piece of bread between them lay, Which neither seemed inclined to take;And yet they looked so much a prey To want, the sight made my heart ache.
"My little children, let me know Why you in such distress appear,And why you wasteful from you throw That bread which many a one might cheer?"
The little boy, in accents sweet, Replied, while tears each other chased:"Lady, we've not enough to eat— Ah! if we had we should 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 eat 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 felt as though deprived of speech;Silent I sat upon the grave, And clasped the clay-cold hand of each.
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