the contrast.
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But a different place was the humble shed
Where the widow toiled for her daily bread:
Lonely she sat by her scant fireside,
And with weary fingers her needle plied;
While the feathery snow came drifting through,
And the winds more loudly and wildly blew.
Where the widow toiled for her daily bread:
Lonely she sat by her scant fireside,
And with weary fingers her needle plied;
While the feathery snow came drifting through,
And the winds more loudly and wildly blew.
With quiet step to the cradle she crept,
Where her youngest, fairest darling slept,
And o'er it bent with a look of love,
Like a parent bird o'er a nestled dove,
"Sleep, dearest, sleep," she murmured low,
In the broken tones of grief and woe:
Where her youngest, fairest darling slept,
And o'er it bent with a look of love,
Like a parent bird o'er a nestled dove,
"Sleep, dearest, sleep," she murmured low,
In the broken tones of grief and woe:
"In yon castle proud there are feastings fair,
For the birth-night's come of their noble heir,
And he proudly stands in his manhood's age,
And claims broad lands for his heritage.
I, too, had a son,—but he's gone from me,
They have made his grave 'neath the churchyard tree.
For the birth-night's come of their noble heir,
And he proudly stands in his manhood's age,
And claims broad lands for his heritage.
I, too, had a son,—but he's gone from me,
They have made his grave 'neath the churchyard tree.
