LOST CHILD.
In Newport, through the silent street
At midnight came a hum
Of voices and of passing feet,
And loudly-beaten drum.
A child was lost,—none could be found
In alley, street, or lane;
His friends in sorrow searched around,
But search was all in vain.
Though many a lantern lent its aid
And torches beamed on high,
In vain the mournful party stray’d
Till morning lit the sky.
Then by the water’s side they came,
And there, oh, sad to say!
All cold and wet, his lifeless frame
Upon the sea-weed lay.
That morning, when he strayed from home,
Poor little Johnnie plann’d
Along the water’s edge to roam,
Among the yellow sand.
And, as he sported free from care
The slippery rocks around,
The rising tide surprised him there,
And there the boy was drowned.
They bore him home, a mournful sight,
Then, speedily arrayed,
His little form in spotless white
Was in a coffin laid.
Next came his friends, a mournful band,
To form the funeral throng,
Where many children hand in hand
Walked silently along.
In grave-yard green may now be seen
O’er Johnnie’s grave a stone,
And letters fair engraven there
His name and age make known.