This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1841 Excerpt: ... But no one soothes the Orphan's anguish, And no one heeds the Orphan's prayer. Hark! hark! for surely footsteps near me, Advancing preas the drifted snow!--I die for food, oh! stranger, hear me, I die for food! some alms bestow. You see no guilty wretch implore you, No wanton pleads in feigned despair; A famished ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1841 Excerpt: ... But no one soothes the Orphan's anguish, And no one heeds the Orphan's prayer. Hark! hark! for surely footsteps near me, Advancing preas the drifted snow!--I die for food, oh! stranger, hear me, I die for food! some alms bestow. You see no guilty wretch implore you, No wanton pleads in feigned despair; A famished Orphan kneels before you, Oh, grant the famished Orphan's prayer. Perhaps you think my lips dissembling, Of virtuous sorrows feign a tale, Then mark my frame with anguish trembling, My hollow eyes, my features pale. E'en should my stoiy prove ideal, Too well these wasted limbs declare My wants at least are not unreal; Then, stranger! grant the Orphan's prayer. He's gone! no mercy man will show me, In prayers no more I'll waste my breath, Here on the frozen earth I'll throw me, And wait in mute despair for death. Farewell, thou cruel world! to-morrow No more thy scorn my heart shall tear, The grave will shield the child of sorrow, And heaven will hear the Orphan's prayer. But thou! proud man, the beggar scorning, Unmoved who saw'st me kneel for brea'I, Thy heart shall ache to hear that morning, That morning found the beggar dead; And when the room resounds with laughter, My famished cry thy mirth shall scare, And often shall thou wish hereafter, Thou hadst not scorned the Orphan's prayer. M. G. Lewis. A SONG OF PITCAIRN'S ISLAND. Come, take our boy, and we will go Before our cabin-door; The wind shall bring us, as they blow, The murmurs of the shore; And we will kiss his young blue eyes, And I will sing him, as he lies, Songs that were made of yore;--I'll sing, in his delighted ear, The island lays thou lovest to hear. And thou, whilst stammering I repeat, Thy country's tongue shalt teach, 'Tis not so soft, but far more sweet Than my own native spe...
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Add this copy of Popular Poems, Selected By E. Parker to cart. $61.07, good condition, Sold by Bonita rated 4.0 out of 5 stars, ships from Hialeah, FL, UNITED STATES, published 2016 by Palala Press.
