 | Poems by Three Friends |  |
10
AN ORPHAN GIRL'S REFLECTIONS.
While other children I behold,
Sportive and gay in gambols wild,
I weep and sigh when I am told,
“Poor girl, thou art an Orphan child.”
Sportive and gay in gambols wild,
I weep and sigh when I am told,
“Poor girl, thou art an Orphan child.”
No mother's kiss—no father's smile
Has e'er my infant woes beguil'd;
They're dead, and I am left awhile
To weep, a helpless Orphan child.
Has e'er my infant woes beguil'd;
They're dead, and I am left awhile
To weep, a helpless Orphan child.
Why am I doom'd the storm to brave,
From all a parent's love exiled?
I'd rather seek an early grave,
Than live—a friendless Orphan child!
From all a parent's love exiled?
I'd rather seek an early grave,
Than live—a friendless Orphan child!
11
No hand my wanderings to reclaim,
Mid scenes of infamy beguil'd—
How may I sink, o'erwhelm'd with shame,
A lost, abandon'd Orphan child.
Mid scenes of infamy beguil'd—
How may I sink, o'erwhelm'd with shame,
A lost, abandon'd Orphan child.
Yet stay—forbear my heart to break!
On me one beam of joy has smil'd;
I've heard, that God will ne'er forsake
The poor, deserted Orphan child.
On me one beam of joy has smil'd;
I've heard, that God will ne'er forsake
The poor, deserted Orphan child.
Will he at whose Almighty voice,
Creation rose from chaos wild,
With smiles of tenderness rejoice,
The heart of a poor Orphan child?
Creation rose from chaos wild,
With smiles of tenderness rejoice,
The heart of a poor Orphan child?
O yes! he sweetly whispers peace,
Soft are his words, his accents mild;
He bids me live,—he calls me his,—
O happy, happy Orphan child!
Soft are his words, his accents mild;
He bids me live,—he calls me his,—
O happy, happy Orphan child!
| Poems by Three Friends | |