 | Poems by Mrs. Opie |  |
131
FATHERLESS FANNY,
A BALLAD.
Keen and cold is the blast loudly whistling around:
As cold are the lips that once smiled upon me;
And unyielding, alas! as this hard-frozen ground,
The arms once so ready my shelter to be.
Both my parents are dead, and few friends I can boast,
But few to console and to love me, if any;
And my gains are so small,....a bare pittance at most
Repays the exertions of fatherless Fanny.
Once indeed I with pleasure and patience could toil,....
But 'twas when my parents sat by and approved;
Then my laces to sell I went out with a smile,
Because my fatigue fed the parents I loved.
And at night, when I brought them my hardly earned gains,
Though small they might be, still my comforts were many;
For my mother's fond blessing rewarded my pains,
My father stood watching to welcome his Fanny.
As cold are the lips that once smiled upon me;
And unyielding, alas! as this hard-frozen ground,
The arms once so ready my shelter to be.
Both my parents are dead, and few friends I can boast,
But few to console and to love me, if any;
And my gains are so small,....a bare pittance at most
Repays the exertions of fatherless Fanny.
132
But 'twas when my parents sat by and approved;
Then my laces to sell I went out with a smile,
Because my fatigue fed the parents I loved.
And at night, when I brought them my hardly earned gains,
Though small they might be, still my comforts were many;
For my mother's fond blessing rewarded my pains,
My father stood watching to welcome his Fanny.
But, ah! now that I work by their presence uncheered,
I feel 'tis a hardship indeed to be poor,
While I shrink from the labour no longer endeared,
And sigh as I knock at the wealthy man's door.
Then, alas! when at night I return to my home,
No longer I boast that my comforts are many;
To a silent, deserted, dark dwelling I come,
Where no one exclaims ‘Thou art welcome, my Fanny.’
I feel 'tis a hardship indeed to be poor,
While I shrink from the labour no longer endeared,
And sigh as I knock at the wealthy man's door.
133
No longer I boast that my comforts are many;
To a silent, deserted, dark dwelling I come,
Where no one exclaims ‘Thou art welcome, my Fanny.’
That, that is the pang;....want and toil would impart
No pang to my breast, if kind friends I could see;
For the wealth I require is that of the heart,
The smiles of affection are riches to me.
Then, ye wealthy, O think, when to you I apply
To purchase my goods, though you do not buy any,
If in accents of kindness you deign to deny,
You'll comfort the heart of poor fatherless Fanny.
No pang to my breast, if kind friends I could see;
For the wealth I require is that of the heart,
The smiles of affection are riches to me.
Then, ye wealthy, O think, when to you I apply
To purchase my goods, though you do not buy any,
If in accents of kindness you deign to deny,
You'll comfort the heart of poor fatherless Fanny.
| Poems by Mrs. Opie | |