 | Women must weep |  |
NOBODY'S CHILD.
Out in the damp and the darkness and cold,
Like a wandering lamb that has stray'd from the fold—
Out in the piercing and pitiless fog,
Like a homeless and hunted and desperate dog,
Ready to snatch at a crust or a bone,
In the rollicking crowds all adrift and alone—
Weak in her hunger, in misery wild,
A dirty but dear little nobody's child—
Poor nobody's child!
Like a wandering lamb that has stray'd from the fold—
Out in the piercing and pitiless fog,
Like a homeless and hunted and desperate dog,
Ready to snatch at a crust or a bone,
In the rollicking crowds all adrift and alone—
Weak in her hunger, in misery wild,
A dirty but dear little nobody's child—
Poor nobody's child!
Away from the mothering arms, and the kiss
That she never has known and now cannot miss—
Away from the warmth of the sheltering room,
In the horrible glare that is worse than the gloom
That flouts her old rags, and exposes her stains
From the splashing of mud and the soot-dropping rains,
With a face that, if washed, would look modest and mild,
An unfortunate outcast and nobody's child—
Poor nobody's child!
That she never has known and now cannot miss—
Away from the warmth of the sheltering room,
In the horrible glare that is worse than the gloom
That flouts her old rags, and exposes her stains
From the splashing of mud and the soot-dropping rains,
With a face that, if washed, would look modest and mild,
An unfortunate outcast and nobody's child—
Poor nobody's child!
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Rambling, she reasons not whither or why,
With no shield but the shadow, no roof but the sky,
Haunted by gaslights that flicker and flare,
Like great eyes that send through her their terrible stare,
Over the pavement, and under the feet
Of the horses that tramp the unsociable street,
With a head on which never one sunbeam has smiled,
Among hundreds all lonely, and nobody's child—
Poor nobody's child!
With no shield but the shadow, no roof but the sky,
Haunted by gaslights that flicker and flare,
Like great eyes that send through her their terrible stare,
Over the pavement, and under the feet
Of the horses that tramp the unsociable street,
With a head on which never one sunbeam has smiled,
Among hundreds all lonely, and nobody's child—
Poor nobody's child!
It is Christmas in country, and Christmas in town,
While the humble look up, and the lofty look down,
And their charity scatter broadcast for the poor;
There is mercy, that knocks at the lowliest door,
There is hope for the footsteps that stumble and err,
There are crumbs for the dogs, but no morsel for her,
As she gapes at the food in huge pyramids piled,
Unnoticed, uncared for, and nobody's child—
Poor nobody's child!
While the humble look up, and the lofty look down,
And their charity scatter broadcast for the poor;
There is mercy, that knocks at the lowliest door,
There is hope for the footsteps that stumble and err,
There are crumbs for the dogs, but no morsel for her,
As she gapes at the food in huge pyramids piled,
Unnoticed, uncared for, and nobody's child—
Poor nobody's child!
Gaily the shops wear their holiday dress,
While she totters along in the strife and the stress
Of the famine that gnaws at her heart, and the tear,
Unseen, is squeezed out by the torture of fear;
And the holly and mistletoe wave without heed,
Though the plenty seems only to mock at her need:
And away in amusement the season is wiled;
She hears it and envies it, nobody's child—
Poor nobody's child!
While she totters along in the strife and the stress
Of the famine that gnaws at her heart, and the tear,
Unseen, is squeezed out by the torture of fear;
And the holly and mistletoe wave without heed,
Though the plenty seems only to mock at her need:
And away in amusement the season is wiled;
She hears it and envies it, nobody's child—
Poor nobody's child!
If our homes have the spell and the splendour of wealth,
All the rapture of pleasure, the radiance of health,
As she shivers outside in the shade and the blast
That is cruel and strong, and must conquer at last;
Let her b' some one's darling, this Christmas, and share
In the brightness and beauty abundance can spare;
Though her frock is in tatters, her features defiled,
Yet let some one remember poor nobody's child—
Poor nobody's child!
All the rapture of pleasure, the radiance of health,
As she shivers outside in the shade and the blast
That is cruel and strong, and must conquer at last;
Let her b' some one's darling, this Christmas, and share
In the brightness and beauty abundance can spare;
Though her frock is in tatters, her features defiled,
Yet let some one remember poor nobody's child—
Poor nobody's child!
| Women must weep | |