 | The Burden of the Bell and Other Lyrics |  |
115
THE CHILDREN OF THE COURTS.
Oh! little ones, poor little ones,
That with pale faces play,
At morning, and at even-tide,
In the city courts alway.—
Oh! little ones, poor little ones,
I would the power were mine,
The power we read of in old tales,
Of spirits half divine,
To bear ye in a moment hence
From your drear haunts away,
To the meadows, and the merry light
Of the clear, sweet, laughing day.
That with pale faces play,
At morning, and at even-tide,
In the city courts alway.—
Oh! little ones, poor little ones,
I would the power were mine,
The power we read of in old tales,
Of spirits half divine,
To bear ye in a moment hence
From your drear haunts away,
To the meadows, and the merry light
Of the clear, sweet, laughing day.
What joy it were to mark the change
O'er your sad features pass,
When first ye caught the pleasant gleam
Of the green and waving grass—
What joy to hear your timid shout
As the bright bird flew by,
Or o'er the brow of the breezy hill
Ye chased the butterfly;—
To watch ye wandering, in and out,
'Midst fields and shady nooks,
Or stealing through the wood's deep glades,
With strange, astonished looks;
Or gathering by the road-side paths,
The wild flowers, many a one,
Then stopping evermore to breathe
The fragrance ye had won.
O'er your sad features pass,
When first ye caught the pleasant gleam
Of the green and waving grass—
116
As the bright bird flew by,
Or o'er the brow of the breezy hill
Ye chased the butterfly;—
To watch ye wandering, in and out,
'Midst fields and shady nooks,
Or stealing through the wood's deep glades,
With strange, astonished looks;
Or gathering by the road-side paths,
The wild flowers, many a one,
Then stopping evermore to breathe
The fragrance ye had won.
And oh, what deeper joy it were
O'er your wan cheeks to see
Slowly the flush of health o'erspread
The hue of misery—
To mark the gradual wakening
Of the glad child-heart within,
The torpor from the soul depart,
The sense of life begin.
Oh! little ones, poor little ones,
Ye languish, day by day,
With scarce a dream of the fair world
That lieth far away;—
O'er your wan cheeks to see
Slowly the flush of health o'erspread
The hue of misery—
To mark the gradual wakening
Of the glad child-heart within,
The torpor from the soul depart,
The sense of life begin.
Oh! little ones, poor little ones,
Ye languish, day by day,
With scarce a dream of the fair world
That lieth far away;—
117
Yet well I trust, some joys ye have
To gild your life's dull stream—
God seeth ye,—God loveth ye,
Though pale and sad ye seem!
God loveth ye! Oh! straight that thought
Hath round about you thrown
A freshness and a fragrance too,
A sunshine, all its own;—
Perchance it was an erring wish,
That human wish of mine;
He knoweth best—He loveth best—
His light and gladness shine
Apart from leafy woods and flowers—
Where murkiest shadows fall,—
Play on, play on, poor little ones,—
That love surpasseth all!
To gild your life's dull stream—
God seeth ye,—God loveth ye,
Though pale and sad ye seem!
God loveth ye! Oh! straight that thought
Hath round about you thrown
A freshness and a fragrance too,
A sunshine, all its own;—
Perchance it was an erring wish,
That human wish of mine;
He knoweth best—He loveth best—
His light and gladness shine
Apart from leafy woods and flowers—
Where murkiest shadows fall,—
Play on, play on, poor little ones,—
That love surpasseth all!
| The Burden of the Bell and Other Lyrics | |