They found a Friend.
The north wind chaunts his wildest song,
The leafless forest boughs among,
Dark night hath drawn her mantle o'er
The barren waste and trackless moor,
There wandering, shivering, side by side
Stem Want their sad and only guide,
Without one earthly friend or home,
The children of the pauper roam.
The boy, with gentle accents, said,
(Patting his little sister's head)—
"Don't cry, dear Anna; dry that tear;
None but the wicked need to fear;
Bright morn will soon be here, and then
We re sure to meet some friend again!"
Each word prophetic that he said,
Bright morning came—it found them dead!
Their earthly troubles at an end;
The child was right—they found a Friend.
Unpretended love, disinterested friendship, political honesty, and tortoiseshell tom cats, are four things rarely to be met with.
