—————
The lamps were dimly shining,
And the waters in a flood,
Came rolling o'er the pavement,
Where the little beggar stood.
He listened for a footstep,
Then he hurried on the street,
But the wind roared with such fury,
Till he scarce could keep his feet.
A few there were who passed him,
But they had no time to stay;
They did not even stop to look,
But hurried quick away.
He passed the marts of business,
Where the gaslights were ablaze,
And saw the countless heaps of things
Displayed to meet the gaze.
One window held him spell-bound—
From end to end 'twas piled
With loaves of bread a tempting sight
To a half-famished child.
He clapped his little cold wet hands,
And almost danced for joy,
It seemed a glimpse of paradise
To that poor hungry boy.
With timid step he ventured in,
And, trembling, thus began:—
"Please, sir, I've come to beg for bread—
Do help me if you can.
"I do not want it for myself,
My mother, too, shall share;
Do give me just one little crust,
If you've a crust to spare."
"Give!" cried the shopman in a rage—
"What shall we live to see?
Go tell your mother she must work,
And earn her bread, like me."