 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary with introduction and notes |  |
THE OUTCAST.
She died at the middle of night:
And brother nor sister, lover nor friend,
Came not near her their aid to lend,
Ere the spirit took its flight.
And brother nor sister, lover nor friend,
Came not near her their aid to lend,
Ere the spirit took its flight.
She died at the middle of night:
Food and raiment she had no more,
And the fire had died on the hearth before,—
'T was a pitiful, pitiful sight.
Food and raiment she had no more,
And the fire had died on the hearth before,—
'T was a pitiful, pitiful sight.
She died at the middle of night:
No napkin pressed back the parted lips;
No weeper, watching the eyes' eclipse,
Covered them up from sight.
No napkin pressed back the parted lips;
No weeper, watching the eyes' eclipse,
Covered them up from sight.
409
She died at the middle of night:
And there was no taper beside the dead,
But the stars, through the broken roof o'erhead,
Shone with a solemn light.
And there was no taper beside the dead,
But the stars, through the broken roof o'erhead,
Shone with a solemn light.
She died at the middle of night:
And the winter snow spread a winding-sheet
Over the body from head to feet,
Dainty, and soft, and white.
And the winter snow spread a winding-sheet
Over the body from head to feet,
Dainty, and soft, and white.
She died at the middle of night:
But if she heard, ere her hour was o'er,
“I have not condemned thee,—sin no more,”
She lives where the day is bright.
But if she heard, ere her hour was o'er,
“I have not condemned thee,—sin no more,”
She lives where the day is bright.
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary with introduction and notes | |