Poems (Chitwood)/The Lost Boy

by Mary Louisa Chitwood

THE LOST BOY.

He had wandered in his beauty,
 The woodland path along,
And followed the shining river,
 While listening to its song;
He had gathered snowy lilies
 From the softly shaded shore;
His heart was a Summer fountain,
 With gladness brimming o'er.
On, on, he gaily wandered,
 Valley and glen he crossed,
Onward, he knew not whither,
 Till he knew that he was lost.

He sank on an emerald hillock,
 With a low and frightened cry;
He heard the wild winds murmur,
 With a ghostly, ghostly sigh;
He heard a strange bird singing,
 Away in the tangled brake,
And in the grass a rustle,
 Like the creeping of a snake:
Just then a tiny sparrow
 Perched on a swinging limb,
And a raven slowly flying,
 He saw in the azure dim.

A smile on his red lips brightened,
 As a star when clouds depart,
A shadow was softly lifted
 From his troubled little heart;
He clasped his white hands softly,
 And lifted his face so fair,
Then said in a lisping whisper,
 A simply worded prayer.
"O raven! homeward flying,
 O sparrow! on the tree,
That love that watches o'er you,
 Will also care for me."

The night came down in darkness,
 But the child was not afraid—
He had the grass for a pillow,
 And the breezes o'er him played.
The dews of the night fell heavy
 Upon his golden hair,
And his lips were often parted
 With the sweet assuring prayer,
O raven! homeward flying,
 O sparrow! on the tree,
The love that watches o'er you,
 Will much more care for me."

Morn brightened fair with sunshine,
 And the boy was safe from harm,
As safe as the babe that slumbered
 At home on its mother's arm.
With a cry of joy they found him,
 A cry of blissful cheer,
And they asked the little wanderer
 What kept his heart from fear.
He told of the flying raven,
 And the sparrow on the tree,
And added, "Our good Father
 Hath much more care for me."