 | Moral songs |  |
THE IDIOT.
Beside the flowery hedge-rows green,
I see the Idiot stroll along,
With nods and smiles, that nothing mean,
And wandering vacant gaze between,
And broken scraps of song.
I see the Idiot stroll along,
With nods and smiles, that nothing mean,
And wandering vacant gaze between,
And broken scraps of song.
Poor, silly man! he loiters by,
And in his hat, but lately culled,
A bunch of daisies nodding high,
With clover mixed, and tufted rye,
Out in the meadows pulled.
And in his hat, but lately culled,
A bunch of daisies nodding high,
With clover mixed, and tufted rye,
Out in the meadows pulled.
He shuns the common bare and brown,
The village green with houses gay,
The mill-pond just beyond the town,
And all the places up and down,
Wherein the children play.
The village green with houses gay,
The mill-pond just beyond the town,
And all the places up and down,
Wherein the children play.
For some do follow him with jeers,
Or run away and call him mad,
Or laugh and point when he appears,
They'd better far shed pitying tears,
For one so poor and sad.
Or run away and call him mad,
10
They'd better far shed pitying tears,
For one so poor and sad.
For God Who measured out his span
Of limited intelligence,
Will surely judge the child who can
Torment a poor half-witted man,
And mock his want of sense.
Of limited intelligence,
Will surely judge the child who can
Torment a poor half-witted man,
And mock his want of sense.
He gave the clear discerning mind,
The eye so bright with reason's glow,
That pity there might dwell enshrined,
And love a ready tear might find,
To mourn another's woe.
The eye so bright with reason's glow,
That pity there might dwell enshrined,
And love a ready tear might find,
To mourn another's woe.
That crouching creature sauntering there,
He feels derision's taunting tone;
Perhaps he knew a mother's care,
Had once a home both blest and fair,
Though now he wanders lone.
He feels derision's taunting tone;
Perhaps he knew a mother's care,
Had once a home both blest and fair,
Though now he wanders lone.
Look kindly on him as he strays;
Misfortune is a holy thing,
It meets us in our walks and ways,
To teach us sympathy and praise,
And grateful thoughts to bring.
Misfortune is a holy thing,
It meets us in our walks and ways,
To teach us sympathy and praise,
And grateful thoughts to bring.
Had Heaven not made thee what thou art,
Thou hadst been weak and lorn as he;
Then meet him with no pride of heart,
Be gentle with him, take his part;
God has been good to thee.
Thou hadst been weak and lorn as he;
Then meet him with no pride of heart,
Be gentle with him, take his part;
God has been good to thee.
| Moral songs | |