A-gathering nuts so blithe and gay,
The children early tripped away;
And he his mother had besought
Under the oak to have him brought;—
It was ever his seat when black-birds sung
The wavy rustling tops among;—
They calmed his pain,—they cheered his loneliness—
The gales,—the music of the wilderness.
Upon a prairie, wide and wild,
Looked off that suffering cripple-child: