Other formats

    Adobe Portable Document Format file (facsimile images)   TEI XML file   ePub eBook file  

Connect

    mail icontwitter iconBlogspot iconrss icon

The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 57

In the Children's Hospital

page 176

In the Children's Hospital.

The ruddy glow of the sunset gold
Falls soft on a pain worn face,
So haggard, and pinched, and wan, and old;
So lacking in childish grace.

No vernal breath from that hallowed place,
The valley of childhood fair,
Ever fanned that hard unchildlike face,
Early stamped with want and care.

Only a waif of the city ways—
A wasted, uncared for life—
That has ebbed, through long and weary days,.
In a fevered struggle and strife.

The dim blue eyes, fierce and bold no more,
But wistful, and very meek,
Urge a mutely longing plea before
The tremulous lips can speak.

"Jim,"—foils the refrain, like some sad song.
While a weak hand seeks in vain
For a hand, never loosed before so long,
That will never be clasped again.

"I guess Jim's dull—there's only us two—
He ain't but little, you see—
I promised mother I'd cherish so
The baby she left to me.

"The little un's never wanted food,
No matter how hungry I've bin;
I don't know nothin', and ain't no good,
But I've kept him safe from sin.

"Pray to Our Father? but dad ain't kind;
He beat poor mother and Jim;
But I'm big and strong, and so don't mind—
I'll soon be a man like him.

"But Jim is 'fraid of strangers, I know;
So tell him I wants him here—
I'll show him a golden way to go
Right up to our mother dear.

"Jim, lad!" but how could an answer come
From lips that are mute and chill?
"Mother's baby" already has followed her home,
And the childish tones are still.

But on that golden path to the west,
It may be a child-soul stayed,
For an angel called the boy to rest,
Ere his last appeal was made.

T. L. Grace Dumas.