Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/284

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
266
THE ORPHAN.
He said—and with a hasty pace
From the lone orphan whistling parted,
The tears bedewed her pallid face—
And down she sunk—half broken-hearted.

Then to her aid a soldier flew,
Who had o'erheard her artless story,
He knew her sire at Waterloo,
And saw him covered o'er with glory!

"Come, orphan, to my arms," he cried,
"And I will screen thee from the weather,
Close to my side thy parents died,
And for their sakes we'll lodge together.

"I have a pension and a cot,
Where thou shalt live till I am hoary—
Here—wrap thee in this old watch-coat—
'Tis warmer than his Lordship's glory!"

The Orphan.
Where shall the child of sorrow find
A place for calm repose?
Thou Father of the fatherless,
Pity the orphan's woes!

What friend have I in heaven or earth,
What friend to trust but Thee?
My father's dead—my mother's dead;
My God remember me!

Thy gracious promise now fulfil,
And bid my trouble cease;
From Thee, the fatherless shall find
Pure mercy, grace, and peace.

No secret care have I or pain
But He that secret knows;
Thou Father of the fatherless,
Pity the orphan's woes.