All the past came flooding o'er me, Came her voice serene and saint-like, As she gazed around upon us, Softly whispering "Loved ones meet me, Meet again to part no more." Then her hand dropped down beside her, O'er her features passed a change, Pallid grew her lips and rigid, Glassy grew her eyes and strange. And I knew, though almost frantic, Time passed on, and sunny summer And its wreath of ferns and flowers. All around was love and beauty, And a weary, weeping wanderer, Till the summons come-""Tis finished! t THE PAUPER CHILD. HERE they lay upon their pallets In that crowded Workhouse roomNot a sound disturbed the silence, Not one ray relieved the gloom : All that band of little vagrants, Outcasts of a dark misfortune, Offsprings of disgrace and shame, Purchase of the fiend deception, Wasted life and blighted fame; Mites engendered in the pest-holes Pictures of a masked oppression, They had ate their scanty pittance Long ago was hushed each whisper, All oblivious of their sorrows, All but one poor little sufferer, No fond hand to mix the cordial, Wildly throbbed her little pulses With a strange, inconstant beat, And her throat was parched and thirsty With the burning fever-heat. Slowly rolled the perspiration From her brow in muddy streaks; Now and then a tear-drop trickled Down her flushed and wasted cheeks. Strangely fixed was every feature, And the little hands were folded There she lay, nor sigh, nor murmur, Boomed the solemn midnight hour. And the sounds so weird and ghost-like, As they pierced her throbbing brain, Broke the spell that bound her senses, Brought her back to earth again; And she longed to reach the window, Longed to sit and dream once more, With the grated casement open, As she oft had sat before, Looking o'er the silent city, To the mountains hoar and bare, Listening to the night's low whisperings, Drinking in the balmy air; Gazing out into the distance, Where the wondrous orbs of light Roll in calm mysterious grandeur Through the misty realms of night; Gazing till a sad, sweet feeling, For she seemed to see a vista, Opening through the dark blue sky, See a snow-white throng of minstrels, Hear a rapturous strain of joy ; See a host of happy children, Free from harsh rebuke and toil, Dancing round a crystal fountain, 'Neath a loving father's smile; And she thought they seemed to beckon, And to murmur softly, "Come! Leave that world of pain and darkness, Come, and share our radiant home." Yes, she longed to reach the window, But her limbs were far too feeble, Turned she slowly on her pillow, |