THE ANGEL'S STORY.
9
"Scarce a glimpse of azure heaven Gleamed above that narrow street,And the sultry air of summer (That you call so warm and sweet)Fevered the poor orphan, dwelling In the crowded alley's heat.
"One bright day, with feeble footsteps Slowly forth he tried to crawl,Through the crowded city's pathways, Till he reached a garden-wall,Where 'mid princely halls and mansions Stood the lordliest of all.
"There were trees with giant branches, Velvet glades where shadows hide;There were sparkling fountains glancing, Flowers, which in luxuriant prideEven wafted breaths of perfume To the child who stood outside.
"He against the gate of iron Pressed his wan and wistful face,Gazing with an awe-struck pleasure At the glories of the place;Never had his brightest day-dream Shone with half such wondrous grace.
"You were playing in that garden, Throwing blossoms in the air,Laughing when the petals floated Downwards on your golden hair;And the fond eyes watching o'er you,And the splendor spread before you, Told a House's Hope was there.
