Page:Poems Dorr.djvu/366

For only the women and children knew
The tale of the horsemen galloping through—
The message he bore as up and down
He rode through the streets of Windham town.

That night, as the parson sat at ease
In the porch, with his Bible on his knees,
(Thanking God that at break of day
Frederic Manning would take his way,
With cattle and sheep from off the hills,
And a load of grain from the barns and mills,
To the starving city where General Gage
Waited unholy war to wage),
His little daughter beside him stood,
Hiding her face in her muslin hood.

In her arms her own pet lamb she bore,
As it struggled down to the oaken floor:
"It must go; I must give my lamb," she said,
"To the children that cry for meat and bread,"
Then lifted to his her holy eyes,
Wet with the tears of sacrifice.
"Nay, nay," he answered. "There is no need
That the hearts of babes should ache and bleed.
Run away to your bed, and to-morrow play,
You and your pet, through the livelong day."

He laid his hand on her shining hair,
And smiled as he blessed her, standing there
With kerchief folded across her breast,
And her small brown hands together pressed,
A quaint little maiden, shy and sweet,
With her lambkin crouched at her dainty feet.
Away to its place the lamb she led,
Then climbed the stairs to her own white bed,