Its downy cheeks wet with the cold evening dew,
Its chubby fists doubled and dimpled and blue.
A moment we gazed on its rude little bed,
And wondered what misery it must atone,
Why it was left there—what mystery led
To expose it to perish, forsaken, alone,
Was it treachery, wickedness, want, or woe,
That tempted the mother to abandon it so?
I lifted the babe from the damp, chilly ground,
Which awakened the sleeper from its sobbing repose,