Poems (Chitwood)/The Beggar Girl
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THE BEGGAR GIRL.
Coldly blew the November rain,
Pattering on the window pane;
Ceasing, then rising, in rage, again,
Drearily, ah! how drearily.
All alone in, the city street,
With scanty robe and shoeless feet,
Upon a door-step had taken a seat
A little girl, ah! wearily.
Pattering on the window pane;
Ceasing, then rising, in rage, again,
Drearily, ah! how drearily.
All alone in, the city street,
With scanty robe and shoeless feet,
Upon a door-step had taken a seat
A little girl, ah! wearily.
All day long she had asked for bread,
All day she had remained unfed,
Till her heart was sick—for cold and dead
Was the selfish world to charity.
Crowds of the rich had passed her by
Turning in scorn from her asking eye—
On, on, in their pomp, with no answering sigh,
For sympathy is a rarity.
All day she had remained unfed,
Till her heart was sick—for cold and dead
Was the selfish world to charity.
Crowds of the rich had passed her by
Turning in scorn from her asking eye—
On, on, in their pomp, with no answering sigh,
For sympathy is a rarity.
Some had looked on her lovely face,
Where gentle beauty had left a trace,
On the noble bearing and air of grace,
Of her slight form—moulded slenderly;
And whispered: "ah! lovely, indeed, is she;
Alas! that an outcast she must be,
Cast on the bleak world's charity;
Cherished, she should be, tenderly."
Where gentle beauty had left a trace,
On the noble bearing and air of grace,
Of her slight form—moulded slenderly;
And whispered: "ah! lovely, indeed, is she;
Alas! that an outcast she must be,
Cast on the bleak world's charity;
Cherished, she should be, tenderly."
Others, in tones of withering scorn,
Spoke to the orphan child forlorn,
Thinking not how their words had torn
The heart that beat so mournfully.
And beauty went by with elastic tread,
With & heart encased in pride, and dead
To the cries of woe—though sweet and red
Was the fair lip curling scornfully.
Spoke to the orphan child forlorn,
Thinking not how their words had torn
The heart that beat so mournfully.
And beauty went by with elastic tread,
With & heart encased in pride, and dead
To the cries of woe—though sweet and red
Was the fair lip curling scornfully.
Night came on over land and sky;
Worn with fatigue and fain to die
Sat the beggar girl, with closed eye,
With hunger and sorrow perishing.
Her bright curls swept in clustering bands
Over her white and clasped hands—
Forsaken on earth, but angel bands
Were the gentle outcast cherishing.
Worn with fatigue and fain to die
Sat the beggar girl, with closed eye,
With hunger and sorrow perishing.
Her bright curls swept in clustering bands
Over her white and clasped hands—
Forsaken on earth, but angel bands
Were the gentle outcast cherishing.
One by one, with flickering ray,
Slowly the pale stars faded away;
Time ushered in another long day
Of sorrow, and wrong, and misery,
To many an eye that fain would sleep
Under the quiet clod so deep,
Yet waked with the light of day to weep,
Till the brain and heart throbbed dizzily.
Slowly the pale stars faded away;
Time ushered in another long day
Of sorrow, and wrong, and misery,
To many an eye that fain would sleep
Under the quiet clod so deep,
Yet waked with the light of day to weep,
Till the brain and heart throbbed dizzily.
On the steps reclined the beggar girl,
Her lips were cold yet they sweetly smiled;
No more can she be by the world reviled,
Dependent upon its charity;
For an angel hand hath hushed her fears,
Sealed the dark 'river of her years,'
Hath taken her where no suffering tears
Ere sully the heavenly purity.
Her lips were cold yet they sweetly smiled;
No more can she be by the world reviled,
Dependent upon its charity;
For an angel hand hath hushed her fears,
Sealed the dark 'river of her years,'
Hath taken her where no suffering tears
Ere sully the heavenly purity.