THE ORPHAN’S LAMENT.
Far more unhappy in the world am I,
Than on the meadow the bird that doth fly.
Little bird merrily flits to and fro,
Sings its sweet carol upon the green bough.
I, alas, wander wherever I will,
Everywhere I am desolate still!
No one befriends me wherever I go,
But my own heart full of sorrow and wo!
Cease thy grief, oh my heart, full of grief,