The Neglected Child. Who still would linger by my side, Whose sighs and tears, whose hopes and fears, I should be more the child, and less But now I own a lonely heart, And am an only child. 287 PARTING GIFT. THE NEGLECTED CHILD. NEVER was a favourite,-- My mother never smiled On me, with half the tenderness That blessed her fairer child; I've seen her kiss my sister's cheek, While fondled on her knee; I've turned away to hide my tears,— And yet I strove to please with all A cold, ungentle check, How blessed are the beautiful! Love watches o'er their birth; Oh, beauty! in my nursery I learned to know thy worth: For even there I often felt Forsaken and forlorn ; And wished-for others wished it too I never had been born! I'm sure I was affectionate,— There was a look of love, that claimed A smile or an embrace; But when I raised my lip, to meet The pressure children prize, None knew the feelings of my heart, -They spoke not in my eyes. But oh! that heart too keenly felt When wantonly reproved, But soon a time of triumph came,— A time of sorrow too; For sickness o'er my sister's form Her venomed mantle threw : The features, once so beautiful, Now wore the hue of death; And former friends shrank fearfully From her infectious breath. The Sick Child. Twas then, unwearied, day and night, I watched beside her bed, And fearlessly upon my breast She lived!—and loved me for my care!— My grief was at an end I was a lonely being once, ; 289 But now I have a friend. T. H. BAYLY. THE SICK CHILD. END down thy winged angel, God! Amidst this night so wild, And bid him come where now we watch, And breathe upon our child! She lies upon her pillow, pale, And moans within her sleep, How gentle and how good a child Than our weak words can tell. We love, we watch throughout the night, We hope,—and have despaired at times; Send down thy sweet-souled angel, God! And bid him soothe our souls to-night, And heal our gentle child! BARRY CORNWALL. THE CHILD AND THE DEW-DROPS. H father, dear father, why pass they away, Oh why are those dew-droops dissolving so soon? "My child," said the father, "look up to the skies, For though youth of its brightness and beauty be riven, Alas! for the father-how little knew he The words he had spoken prophetic could be, That the beautiful child-the bright star of his day— The Child and the Angels. Oh! sad was the father, when lo! in the skies 291 The rainbow again spread its beauteous dyes; CARPENTER. THE CHILD AND THE ANGELS. 66 HE Sabbath's sun was setting low, Amidst the clouds at even; "Our Father," breathed a voice below, 'Father, who art in heaven." Beyond the earth, beyond the clouds, Those infant words were given; "Our Father," angels sang aloud,— "Thy kingdom come," still from the ground "Thy kingdom come," God's host resound, Far up the starry way. "Thy will be done," with little tongue, That lisping love implores; "Thy will be done," the angelic throng Sing from the heavenly shores. "For ever," still those lips repeat, Their closing evening prayer; CHARLES SWAIN. |