Читать книгу The Girl's Own Paper, Vol. VIII, No. 354, October 9, 1886 - Various - Страница 1

In the heart of the heartless town, where hunger and death are rife;

Where gold and greed, and trouble and need, make up the sum of life—

        A woman lives with her only child,

       And toils 'mid the weary strife.

No end to the tiring toil to earn a wage so small;

No end to the ceaseless care—ah! the misery of it all!

       While the strongest snatch the hard-earned crust,

       The weakest the crumbs that fall.

Oh, look at the pallid face as it bends o'er the dreary work;

The stitch, and stitch, and stitch that she knows she dare not shirk!

       Her strength is ebbing away so fast

       That she scarcely feels it go.

Oh, list to the weary sigh—a whole tale in one breath—

A widowed life, and a mother's love, and the fear of an early death.

       While there at her feet a pale boy sits,

       And weeps for his mother's woe.

She has called to her boy in the night; he has nestled beside her bed,

And clung to her neck with a smothered cry and a feeling of sudden dread.

       And thus they lie, till the mother strives

       To speak with her tears unshed.

And then she tells him—so sweet and low, it sounds like a fairy tale—

How Jesus has sent His angels down to fetch her; that He won't fail

       To send His angel to watch o'er him

       When love can no more avail.

But still she holds him so gently firm, so close to her lifeless breast;

She speaks no more, he weeps no more, for God knows what is best.

       He has taken both from a world of pain

       To endless peace and rest.