A gift book of stories and poems for children :: :: University of Virginia Library

176

The morning sun shines brightly,
But it shineth not for me;
The breeze is blowing lightly,
But my spirit is not free.

There's many a hand to meet me,
But mine is sadly given;
I thank the friends who greet me,
But my heart is chilled and riven.

My former home was lowly,
And this is rich and rare,
But to me 'tis melancholy,
And that was bright and fair.

I know here is much smiling,
And graceful, easy mirth,

177

And ways of kind beguiling,
And words of gentle birth;

And I try to check my sadness,
And look as bright as they,
And call a fitful gladness
To wile the long, long day.

I sometimes think 'twould cheer me
To taste one little draught
Of the streamlet that ran near me,
Which in infancy I quaffed.

If I could but see my mother,
And press her cheek to mine,
Or take my darling brother,
His flaxen hair to twine.

If e'en my loving dog were here
To eat from out my hand,
I think I should not shed a tear
Amid this stranger band.