Or so methought. There came a sound,
My head I raised, and past the mound
By twos and threes they crept around.
Oh poor kind hearts, hearts made of gold!
Trembling, half-naked, bent, and old,
Some young; all starved with want or cold!
Barefooted, sick, mishabit, lame,
At risk of their poor lives they came,
Yet knew they not her very name!
We knelt together on the mound,