Excerpt from The Foundling: A Village Tale
But the peaceful quiet was broken By the hurried tread of feet, And a baby, soundly sleeping, Was left helpless on the street Then the morning broke in crimson, As if blushing to behold, In the midst of so much shelter, One poor lamb... without a fold.
From a dreamy sleep awakened, With the cry of one distressed, Seeking wildly some fond mother, To enfold it to her breast; While the little lips are trembling, And the tears of sorrow ¿ow, Pleading in their liquid language For compassion on its woe.
Why so frightened, little trembler? There are Christian homes all 'round, Other mothers will caress you, Though your own were never found Lo! Yon proudly lifted steeple.
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