 | Poems (1867) |  |
351
A SONG TO CALL TO REMEMBRANCE.
A Plea for the Coventry Ribbon-Weavers.
I heard a little maiden sing, “What can the matter be”?
A simple song, a merry song, yet sad it seemed to me,
“Oh, my love is coming from the town, he is coming from the Fair,
And he will bring me ribbons blue to tie my bonny hair!”
A simple song, a merry song, yet sad it seemed to me,
“Oh, my love is coming from the town, he is coming from the Fair,
And he will bring me ribbons blue to tie my bonny hair!”
O lasses fair, that love to wear—O lads, that love to see
The ribbons bright, the ribbons rare—what can the matter be?
At Christmas tide, when all beside are merry and are glad,
How many English hearts are sore, how many homes are sad!
The ribbons bright, the ribbons rare—what can the matter be?
352
How many English hearts are sore, how many homes are sad!
The looms are stopped, the hands are still that wrought the ribbons gay;
When anxious fathers have no work the children dare not play;
No cheerful noise around the board; oh! little to prepare!
The mother's work is quickly o'er, but not the mother's care!
When anxious fathers have no work the children dare not play;
No cheerful noise around the board; oh! little to prepare!
The mother's work is quickly o'er, but not the mother's care!
And all is dull and all is chill within the humble room;
Beside his black and fireless hearth, beside his idle loom,
The poor man sits from day to day in garments worn and thin,
And sees the homely comforts go he toiled so hard to win.
Beside his black and fireless hearth, beside his idle loom,
The poor man sits from day to day in garments worn and thin,
And sees the homely comforts go he toiled so hard to win.
353
The icicle hangs on the eaves, and silent as a stone
All Nature lies in sleep or death, chilled through unto the bone;
The earth below is white and cold, the skies are cold and grey,
The grave seems very near, and Heaven seems very far away.
All Nature lies in sleep or death, chilled through unto the bone;
The earth below is white and cold, the skies are cold and grey,
The grave seems very near, and Heaven seems very far away.
Oh sad and short the wintry day, oh sad and long the night,
When in the heart there is no hope, and in the house no light,
No fire, no food! yet goodly gifts, yet words of Christian cheer,
Can make the grave seem farther off, can make the heavens more near.
When in the heart there is no hope, and in the house no light,
No fire, no food! yet goodly gifts, yet words of Christian cheer,
Can make the grave seem farther off, can make the heavens more near.
Ye merry hearts, that meet to laugh and dance the hours away,
Ye gentle hearts, that better love in sheltered homes to pray,
Think on the homes whose Christmas guests are only Want and Care,
Think on the hearts too sad for mirth, too sad perchance for prayer;
Ye gentle hearts, that better love in sheltered homes to pray,
Think on the homes whose Christmas guests are only Want and Care,
Think on the hearts too sad for mirth, too sad perchance for prayer;
354
For Want and Care are dreary mates, and where they enter in
There Love should follow after quick, for Discontent and Sin
Without the door are knocking loud—oh! keep them waiting there,
And hold at bay the prowling wolf of savage, gaunt despair!
There Love should follow after quick, for Discontent and Sin
Without the door are knocking loud—oh! keep them waiting there,
And hold at bay the prowling wolf of savage, gaunt despair!
A little while and skies will clear that now are overcast;
Our ship that rides 'mid heavy seas will right itself at last;
Come, loving hearts, come, open hands, with bounty warm and wide,
Come, lend our struggling friends a lift, till the turning of the tide.
Our ship that rides 'mid heavy seas will right itself at last;
Come, loving hearts, come, open hands, with bounty warm and wide,
Come, lend our struggling friends a lift, till the turning of the tide.
January 10, 1861.
| Poems (1867) | |