CLASS-BOOK OF ENGLISH POETRY. Junior Division. THE cottage was a thatched one, Was wondrous neat and clean. The night was dark and stormy, The wind was howling wild; A patient mother knelt beside The deathbed of her child. A little worn-out creature- They called him little Jim. And oh! to see the briny tears Fast hurrying down her cheek, LITTLE JIM. As she offered up a prayer in thought- Lest she might waken one she loved For there was all a mother's love With hands uplifted, see, she kneels And prays that He will spare her boy, She gets her answer from the child; Soft fell these words from him :"Mother, the angels do so smile, And beckon little Jim! I have no pain, dear mother, now, But oh! I am so dry; Just moisten poor Jim's lips again, With gentle, trembling haste she held He smiled, to thank her, as he took 'Tell father, when he comes from work, She saw that he was dying The child she loved so dear, The cottage door was opened, The collier's step was heard; The mother and the father met, Yet neither spoke a word! He knew that all was over He knew his child was dead; He took the candle in his hand, And walked towards the bed. His quivering lips gave token Of grief he'd fain conceal; With hearts bowed down with sadness, In heaven once more to meet again ANON. |