Who dares uplift a latch, Like thief at night, To scatter treasured hopes And steal my store? Who darkens my domain Where I, an empress, reign, While subjects wait dispatch? Away, ye dread Despair! To castles in the air Still let me soar.
LITTLE JOE.
He stands in crowded city street, Poor, tired, little Joe, And sees the people pass and meet While moments come and go.
He holds sweet flowers in his hand, Poor, patient, little Joe, And wonders who can understand His poverty and woe.
“Please won’t you buy my blossoms bright?” Cries hopeful, little Joe, While daylight fades and sunset light Floods stirring streets below.
But no one lingers, no one cares For homeless, little Joe; When mother breathed his name in prayers He was too small to know.
When father took him on his knee, Dear, little baby Joe, He used to crow in childish glee But that was long ago.
The night grows dark, and no one hears Poor, heartsick, little Joe; He puts his flowers away with tears And turns his foot-steps slow.
He passes mansions grand and tall, Poor, homesick, little Joe, And hopes that men within the hall Will gifts of love bestow.