Page:Poems Curwen.djvu/160

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152
forsaken.

Yea, if she would do like her Lord,
Irrespective of race, or creed,
She must follow the Master's lead,
And faithfully obey His word.

O brethren! fathers of dear sons,
And mothers of sweet daughters fair,
Surely a trifle you may spare
To aid the famine-stricken ones.

Fear not to cast your bread upon
The waters, 'twill return again;
And ye shall count your loss as gain,
When the dear Lord doth say "Well done."




Forsaken
An old man stands at the Workhouse gate,
Gazing wistfully down the road;
Cruel indeed was the hand of fate,
When it led him into that abode,
Although kind hearts have tried to make
His lot less hard, for "old times sake."

What is he thinking of? as he stands,
Silently, wistfully, gazing there,
Clutching the bars with his thin worn hands,
While the rough wind ruffles his silver hair.
Is it of days and years that have fled?
Sadly, slowly, he shakes his head.