A CHRISTMAS BALLAD .
The sun was shining on the dappled meadows,
Where lambs were frisking in their lightsome glee,
Whilst poor lame Willie, from his wee dark garret,
Could neither lamb, nor flower, nor sunshine see.
And if sometimes a stray sunbeam came streaming
In through his cracked and broken window pane,
Gilding the miseries of his lone chamber,
It woke a yearning that became a pain.
No song of bird had ever cheered lame Willie,
Except the sparrow's chirpings 'neath the eaves;
Yet of their warblings he was ever dreaming —
Dreams that untaught poetic fancy weaves.
His soul was hungering for some thing of beauty,
On which to feast his brightly-beaming eye;
No pretty thing could he see from his garret,
Except the stars that lit the evening sky.
" Oh, tak' me to the green my ain dear mither "
He cried, " some day when ye are no' at wark;
And we can gang as sune's we get our breakfast
And no' come back again until it's dark.
" I want to hear the rolling o' the river,
To list in quiet to the city's hum; —
Mither, altho' I'm lame I'm very thankfu'
That God has made me neither deaf nor dumb. "
His mother turned from him to hide her anguish:
She oft rebelled because her boy was lame;
" He's far too wise, " she said, " my ae wee lammie,
My bonnie doo will ne'er a grey head kame. "
" Ye couldna walk, my Willie, " she said, smiling,
" And carrying ye is mair now than I can;
Ye've grown sae, laddie, near as big's your mither —
How could I carry ane that's maist a man? "
" I'll never be a man, my ain dear mither,
" And I'm glad I'll never, never be;
But I would like to see the bonnie simmer,
And hear its voices ance before I dee. "
When Ted, the coalman, heard the lame boy's wishes
(For Ted tho' rough, had got a kindly heart),
He said he'd drive him out next Sunday morning,
With old dun Jeru and the cuddy cart.
Good Teddy came in all his Sunday grandeur,
And carried Willie down the creaking stair;
And to the South Side Park led out old Jeru,
Softly exhorting him to walk with care.
Was ever boy so happy as lame Willie
When he beheld the bright and beauteous scene,
Whilst the kind sun his beams were show'ring on him
As free and golden as on Scotland's queen.
He ne'er again was lonely in his garret, —
That gorgeous picture never left his mind;
It was a book thaThe was always reading,
Where night or day he perfect bliss could find.
The soft green grass, the splendour of the flowers,
The fragrant perfume of the red June rose,
The rustling trees that softly waved and quivered,
The birds that warbled 'mong their leafy boughs:
The bees that hummed upon the beauteous blossoms,
The fairy butterflies so gay and bright,
The sunshine streaming upon all from heaven,
Each to the boy was a most pure delight.
When Christmas came the frost was keen and biting,
And coals were heaped upon the rich man's fire;
And yet of cold he night and day complained
Though wrapped in broadcloth to his heart's desire.
Lame Willie shivered in his cold lone garret,
Till sickness laid him fast upon his bed;
And his sad mother wailed that she must leave him
The lee lang day, to earn their daily bread.
Good Teddy often came with bits of candy,
And tales of Jeru's sly and tricky ways,
And promises of visits to the gardens
When summer brought again the sunny days.
Lame Willie smiled to please the kindly coalman,
Tho' well he knew he'd ne'er again be whole;
And yearned for some one who could bring to order
The tangled mass of beauty in his soul.
For strange thoughts haunted the neglected laddie
About a higher life than he saw led,
And visions of a great and beauteous garden
That was the home of all the happy dead.
'Twas then a lady lefTher cosy chamber,
Filled with compassion for the sick and poor,
And bravely daring cold, and filth, and rudeness,
Went like an angel in at misery's door.
She, like a sunbeam, came to Willie's garret;
And tho' she comforts gave a goodly share,
He said her kind face was the truest balsam —
" 'Twas like a breath o' caller garden air. "
And when she told him the great Christmas story,
Of how the Lord left His bright courts of joy,
And for our sakes bore all the keenest sorrow —
The manger-born despised and suffering Boy.
But yet how angels carolled o'er His coming;
How stars were heralds to proclaim His birth:
And how they still sang hymns of joy and gladness
When sons were born to God upon the earth.
And when she read him of the golden city,
The crystal river, and the trees aye green,
The songs of joy that in the home of heaven
Await the throng who turn away from sin.
The lame boy's face was all aglow with gladness —
The face so pinched with early want and care —
And told with rapture how he knew thaTheaven
Must, like that garden, be so fresh and fair.
And when he dying lay, he told good Teddy
The happy boy that Jeru's drive had made,
But how that angels from that bed would bear him
Where tree nor flower could never, never fade:
" You, too, must come, Ted, and my ain dear mither;
But you'll no ken Willie, for he'll no be lame,
The Great Physician lives and reigns in heaven,
I'll soon be healed if I but ance get hame. "
Lame Willie sleeps in peace beneath the daisies,
And oft his mother tells, with show'ring tears,
His pretty ways, and ere he went to heaven,
How strangely wise he was beyond his years.
And blessings follow that good gentle lady,
Who told these Christmas tidings to the boy,
Smoothed his rough pillow, and gave him rapture
That seemed a foretaste of the heavenly joy.
The sun was shining on the dappled meadows,
Where lambs were frisking in their lightsome glee,
Whilst poor lame Willie, from his wee dark garret,
Could neither lamb, nor flower, nor sunshine see.
And if sometimes a stray sunbeam came streaming
In through his cracked and broken window pane,
Gilding the miseries of his lone chamber,
It woke a yearning that became a pain.
No song of bird had ever cheered lame Willie,
Except the sparrow's chirpings 'neath the eaves;
Yet of their warblings he was ever dreaming —
Dreams that untaught poetic fancy weaves.
His soul was hungering for some thing of beauty,
On which to feast his brightly-beaming eye;
No pretty thing could he see from his garret,
Except the stars that lit the evening sky.
" Oh, tak' me to the green my ain dear mither "
He cried, " some day when ye are no' at wark;
And we can gang as sune's we get our breakfast
And no' come back again until it's dark.
" I want to hear the rolling o' the river,
To list in quiet to the city's hum; —
Mither, altho' I'm lame I'm very thankfu'
That God has made me neither deaf nor dumb. "
His mother turned from him to hide her anguish:
She oft rebelled because her boy was lame;
" He's far too wise, " she said, " my ae wee lammie,
My bonnie doo will ne'er a grey head kame. "
" Ye couldna walk, my Willie, " she said, smiling,
" And carrying ye is mair now than I can;
Ye've grown sae, laddie, near as big's your mither —
How could I carry ane that's maist a man? "
" I'll never be a man, my ain dear mither,
" And I'm glad I'll never, never be;
But I would like to see the bonnie simmer,
And hear its voices ance before I dee. "
When Ted, the coalman, heard the lame boy's wishes
(For Ted tho' rough, had got a kindly heart),
He said he'd drive him out next Sunday morning,
With old dun Jeru and the cuddy cart.
Good Teddy came in all his Sunday grandeur,
And carried Willie down the creaking stair;
And to the South Side Park led out old Jeru,
Softly exhorting him to walk with care.
Was ever boy so happy as lame Willie
When he beheld the bright and beauteous scene,
Whilst the kind sun his beams were show'ring on him
As free and golden as on Scotland's queen.
He ne'er again was lonely in his garret, —
That gorgeous picture never left his mind;
It was a book thaThe was always reading,
Where night or day he perfect bliss could find.
The soft green grass, the splendour of the flowers,
The fragrant perfume of the red June rose,
The rustling trees that softly waved and quivered,
The birds that warbled 'mong their leafy boughs:
The bees that hummed upon the beauteous blossoms,
The fairy butterflies so gay and bright,
The sunshine streaming upon all from heaven,
Each to the boy was a most pure delight.
When Christmas came the frost was keen and biting,
And coals were heaped upon the rich man's fire;
And yet of cold he night and day complained
Though wrapped in broadcloth to his heart's desire.
Lame Willie shivered in his cold lone garret,
Till sickness laid him fast upon his bed;
And his sad mother wailed that she must leave him
The lee lang day, to earn their daily bread.
Good Teddy often came with bits of candy,
And tales of Jeru's sly and tricky ways,
And promises of visits to the gardens
When summer brought again the sunny days.
Lame Willie smiled to please the kindly coalman,
Tho' well he knew he'd ne'er again be whole;
And yearned for some one who could bring to order
The tangled mass of beauty in his soul.
For strange thoughts haunted the neglected laddie
About a higher life than he saw led,
And visions of a great and beauteous garden
That was the home of all the happy dead.
'Twas then a lady lefTher cosy chamber,
Filled with compassion for the sick and poor,
And bravely daring cold, and filth, and rudeness,
Went like an angel in at misery's door.
She, like a sunbeam, came to Willie's garret;
And tho' she comforts gave a goodly share,
He said her kind face was the truest balsam —
" 'Twas like a breath o' caller garden air. "
And when she told him the great Christmas story,
Of how the Lord left His bright courts of joy,
And for our sakes bore all the keenest sorrow —
The manger-born despised and suffering Boy.
But yet how angels carolled o'er His coming;
How stars were heralds to proclaim His birth:
And how they still sang hymns of joy and gladness
When sons were born to God upon the earth.
And when she read him of the golden city,
The crystal river, and the trees aye green,
The songs of joy that in the home of heaven
Await the throng who turn away from sin.
The lame boy's face was all aglow with gladness —
The face so pinched with early want and care —
And told with rapture how he knew thaTheaven
Must, like that garden, be so fresh and fair.
And when he dying lay, he told good Teddy
The happy boy that Jeru's drive had made,
But how that angels from that bed would bear him
Where tree nor flower could never, never fade:
" You, too, must come, Ted, and my ain dear mither;
But you'll no ken Willie, for he'll no be lame,
The Great Physician lives and reigns in heaven,
I'll soon be healed if I but ance get hame. "
Lame Willie sleeps in peace beneath the daisies,
And oft his mother tells, with show'ring tears,
His pretty ways, and ere he went to heaven,
How strangely wise he was beyond his years.
And blessings follow that good gentle lady,
Who told these Christmas tidings to the boy,
Smoothed his rough pillow, and gave him rapture
That seemed a foretaste of the heavenly joy.