Page:Poems Welby.djvu/130

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122
And, as she saw the quivering tear-drop springing
Into his eyes, and heard him ask for bread,
Swift thoughts, like lightning, through her brain went wing.
And thus she poured them o'er his fair young head.

Boy! I would fain return thy fond caresses.
But I must put thee from my heart away
   On the cold earth to lay;
And though upon thee Hunger harshly presses,
Planting within thee deep its gnawing fangs,
   I cannot stay thy pangs.

For I have wandered till I'm worn and weary,
Seeking a shelter for thy little head,
   Or a spare crust of bread;
But have found none, and now, heart-sick and dreary,
I lay me down beneath the quiet sky
   To bless thee, boy, and die.

It is, alas! a mounful thing to leave thee
In this cold world to thy young thoughts alone;
   For O! when I am gone,
No smiling mother will at eve receive thee,
Bending o'er thy hushed lip and folded eye—
   Alas, that I must die!

But thou wilt think upon the prayer I taught thee,
When life with us flowed smoothly as a song
   Our native hills among,