Classic Poem

As through a scented clover lane
I walked one summer day,
I met blithe Alice Hamilton,
Of the Hamiltons of Brae.

The sunlight rippling o'er the fields
And round the landscape gay
Caressed young Alice Hamilton,
Of the Hamiltons of Brae.

A gown of filmy white she wore,
As free from soil or stain
As her fresh life was free from care,
Her fervid heart from pain.

Ere long she met a ragged girl,
The child had lost her way
And cried as if her little soul
Would burst, that summer day;

She took the sad one in her arms
And wiped its tears away
And kissed it, Alice Hamilton,
Of the Hamiltons of Brae.

What matter if her gown were soiled,
She cared not for the stain,
Her heart on the sweet task was set
Of soothing children's pain.

Her tenderness was deep, and so
There never passed a day
That from her love God did not light
A lamp for some dark way.

'Twas long ago she went from earth
Within the shadows gray,
Dear, helpful Alice Hamilton,
Of the Hamiltons of Brae;

She died before her own young heart
Had felt life's bitterest pain,
While laughter yet lay close to tears
As sunshine does to rain,

While violets still with carpets blue
Screened all unsightly clay,
And daffodils danced merrily
Beside the dreariest way,

But the clear torch she set alight
Shines like a sun to-day,
And men bless Alice Hamilton,
Of the Hamiltons of Brae.