 | Collected poems |  |
570
A WAIF
Ragged and starved, with shifting look, and eyes
Too old for childhood, and too dull for joy,
How shall you guess, thro' this forlorn disguise,
The Man you hope for, in this hopeless Boy?
Too old for childhood, and too dull for joy,
How shall you guess, thro' this forlorn disguise,
The Man you hope for, in this hopeless Boy?
There is no heart so cold but may be warmed;
And—by the grace of God—can be transformed.
And—by the grace of God—can be transformed.
1907.
| Collected poems | |