Classic Poem

A BEGGAR boy sank at a lordly door,
Feeble with hunger and cold;
His father had died of the poorest poor,
And his mother waxed weary and old;
He had left her alone in their sordid shed,
In darkness to mutter and grieve,
And had come to crave for the bitterest bread,
'Mid the snows of Christmas-eve

He saw the broad windows gaily shine,
He heard the glad sounds within;
He fancied the flow of the fragrant wine,
And the greetings of friends and kin:
And children were there, — for he heard the sound
Of their laughter, blithely elate;
And the beggar boy wept with a grief profound,
As he thought of his own sad fate.

He beat the steps with his tingling feet,
And wished for the coming of day;
He caught each sound in the sombre street,
But thought of his mother alway.
He brushed the snow from his piteous face,
To gaze at the starless sky,
And anon he appealed with a touching grace
To the heart of each passer-by

In vain — in vain! for no ear was bent
To hearken his sorrowful plaint;
And he felt that his heart was crushed and rent,
As his words grew fewer and faint:
In vain! for his suppliant murmurs died
Unheard in the misty air;
Careless of callous, all turned aside,
And left him to perish there.

At length, from a hundred old towers rang
The tones of the midnight chime;
And a hundred voices joyously sang
A lay of the hallowed time.
The boy looked up with a glad surprise,
At those sweet sounds of the night;
And lo! there appeared to his startled eyes
A Vision, divinely bright.

'Twas an angel shape, and its raiment shone
Like the moon in her brightest hour;
Its voice had a soft and persuasive tone,
That thrilled with a wondrous power:
" Poor child! " it said, " enough hast thou striven,
Thou shalt hunger and grieve no more;
I am C HRIST , — come and live in the climes of Heaven,
Where thy mother has gone before. "

" I am ready and glad! " cried the beggar boy,
As he sprang through the blinding snow,
While his young heart throbbed with a tremulous joy,
And his face had an angel's glow
He went with the Vision; — and when morn smiled,
On the pitiless pavement lay
All that remained of the orphan child,
For the spirit had passed away.