Classic Poem

I.

'Twas New-Year's night; the joyous throng
Of guests from banquet rose,
And lightly took their homeward path
Across the drifted snows.
That night, e'en to the peasant's shed,
Some little gleam of gladness spread.

II.

That night, beside a chapel door,
Two lonely children stood;
In timid tone, with utterance faint,
They asked a little food:
Careless, the laughing guests passed by, —
Too gay to mark the Orphans' cry.

III.

A lamp that lit the sacred shrine
The Children's pale cheeks shewed;
The elder stretched his trembling hand
For what was not bestowed;
The younger sung a plaintive strain,
Oft dropped, then feebly raised again: —

IV.

" Two friendless, helpless children, we, —
" Our mother's death we weep;
" Together, in one narrow grave,
" She and our father sleep!
" We, too, of cold and want must die,
" If none will help or hear our cry! "

V.

This voice was lost; the winter-wind
Bore off its tones subdued,
And soon the merry Feasters gone,
Left all in solitude;
And none had looked towards the church,
Or marked the Orphans in its porch.

VI.

Then turned they to the chapel door; —
Their mother oft had said
That God will shield the friendless poor,
When other aid is fled.
They knocked — an echo mocked the ear;
They waited — Death alone drew near!

VII.

Time speeds; the lamp shines feebly still,
The chimes of midnight sound;
Heard now from far, a chariot's wheels
Ring o'er the frozen ground.
Rise, Orphans! Call! No! — hushed their cry;
Unchecked, the chariot thunders by.

VIII.

A Priest his matins came to say,
When dawn first lit the skies;
He found them on the threshold laid;
He called — they would not rise!
The icy steps of stone, their bed; —
The white snow for their covering spread.

IX.

Clasped closely in each other's arms,
As if for warmth, they lay;
But perished is the fire of Life,
And stilled the pulses' play;
Mute, motionless, and ashen pale,
They slept, no more to wake or wail!

X.

The elder pressed the younger's lips,
As if to check a prayer; —
As if to say, " 'Tis vain to ask! —
" Compassion dwells not here! "
And half he screened his brother's form,
To hide him from the frozen storm.

XI.

Lulled thus in everlasting sleep,
The Orphan Babes are laid;
Now those their piteous fate may weep
Who would not give them aid:
Crowds thronged the church by morning light,
But none came near, that winter-night!