WINTER.
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With my breath so keen and chilling, I have stripped the branches bare; And my snow-flakes white are filling, Feather-like, the frosty air.
Coming o'er the lofty mountains, There I left a robe of white; I have locked the sparkling fountains, I have chained the river bright.
O'er the quiet valley winging, There I left my traces, too; Hark! the merry sleigh-bells ringing, With their music call on you.
I have come! The school-boy shouting, Joyfully brings out his sled; He has seen me, nothing doubting, As across the fields he sped.
I have come; but shall I find you Better than the former year? If you've cast your faults behind you, I shall gladly greet you here. | |
"GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD."
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Give us this day our daily bread; Oh! children, when you pray, And morn and night repeat these words, Think what it is you say.
You never asked a piece of bread, And had that wish denied; For food to eat, and some to spare, Has always been supplied.
But o'er the ocean, many a cheek With want grows thin and pale; And many suffer like the boy Of whom I tell this tale.
He lay upon some scattered straw,— His strength was almost gone,— And, in a feeble voice, he cried, "Give me three grains of corn!"
Three grains from out his jacket torn, His trembling mother drew, 'Twas all she had—she gave them him, Though she was starving too!
Be very grateful, children, then, For all that you enjoy; Remembering, as you say those words, The little Irish boy. | |
