The Orphan Girl 1
"No home, no home," said a little girl
At the door of a prinsley hall,
As she trembling stood on the marble steps,
And leaned on the polisded wall.
Her clothes were thin, her feet were bare,
And the snow had covered her head.
"Give me a home," she faintly cryed,
"A home and a piece of bread."
The night was dark and the snow still fell,
When the rich man closed his door,
His proud lips curled, he scornfully said,
"No home, no bread for the poor."
"I must freeze," she said as she sat on the step,
And strove to cover her feet
With her tattered clothes all covered with snow,
Yes, all covered with snow and sleet.
The rich man slept on his velvet bed
And dreamed of his silver and gold.
While the orphan lay on* a bed of snow,
And murmured -- so cold, so cold.
Another hour and the midnight xxx storm,
Rolled on like a furious nell,
And the earth seamed roped in a winding sheet
And the drops of snow still fell.
The morning dawned and the little girl
Still lay at the rich man’s door,
But her soul had fled to the home above
Where there is room and bread for the poor.
Bright Angles came is the midnight storm
Yes, came to her relief,
And bore her away on ther snow white wings
To heaven her mother to greet.
A golden crown and a snow white robe,
Was given her to were,
And the bread of life her soul to eat,
To reward her sufferings hear.
(From a MS. written in 1905 and belonging to Mary Alice Hoover’s
grandmother.)
