14
AT THE WORKHOUSE DOOR.
Snow on the ground, and stars in the sky—
Was that a shadow went wandering by?
Church bells ringing across the cold—
Night winds sobbing along the wold—
The wind—or was it the sound of a sigh?
Was that a shadow went wandering by?
Church bells ringing across the cold—
Night winds sobbing along the wold—
The wind—or was it the sound of a sigh?
Clocks at twelve, and a Christmas night;
Silent streets,—not a soul in sight;
Are these two footsteps along the snow?
Lonely feet, that grew faint and slow,
As they left their track on the waste of white?
Silent streets,—not a soul in sight;
Are these two footsteps along the snow?
Lonely feet, that grew faint and slow,
As they left their track on the waste of white?
Blank, and ugly, and bare, and tall,
The windowless front of the workhouse wall;
What is it lying against the stone—?
A dog,—that was fain with its dying moan
Out of the reach of the wind to crawl?
The windowless front of the workhouse wall;
What is it lying against the stone—?
A dog,—that was fain with its dying moan
Out of the reach of the wind to crawl?
