Classic Poem

Three tedious winters helpless and forlorn,
Stretch'd at some friendless door, this tender frame,
Not form'd to suffer sad distress and blame,
Disease, and cold, and penury has borne:
From my lov'd home by charms too pow'rful torn,
I fell the victim of a guiltless flame;
Alas! my artless soul foresaw not shame
In those fair looks, whose perfidy I mourn.
He barb'rous left me, like a wither'd flow'r
Spoil'd of its fragrance; with repenting sighs
Long a stern father's steely heart I tried;
In vain! Now hunger brings my fatal hour;
To my dear Lord my soul rejoicing flies,
To find that mercy, which the world denied.