A wee wean stands at a dark close-mouth,
Wi' ashy cheek and watery ee,
The rags waffin' round her wad wauken ruth
In a mair stieve-breasted chield than me.
Like a starving bird on the frozen lea,
Her voice is mute, and her head hings law;
Like a shivering leaf whilk fa's frae the tree,
Shrinkin' to dow 'mang the drifted snaw,
Sae the wee thing cowers in the chilly blaw.

Ah! waur than the bird in the wintry day
Is this daughter o' weary want and sin,
And e'en as at mid-day the gloamin' grey
O'ershadows the hame that she huddles in,
So crime's avengers wi' clamour an' din
Sternly scowl on her hapless race;
Nae lawfu' bread can the wee thing win
Wi' the brand o' shame on her shy wee face;
O God! man has justice, but little grace.

Thou shak'st like a leaf, and sae shalt thou dow,
Wi' thy feckless marrows, my sweet wee bairn,
Till thought sits lichter on man's dour brow,
And a lowe o' love melts his heart o' airn;
And bright shall it glow when men shall learn
That it's better to heal than to wound the heart,
That mercy is powerful as vengeance is stern;
That kindness hath only the heavenly art,
Dark deadly crime to conquer and convert.