For the Table Book.
THE ORPHANS.
Written on seeing a small Lithographic
Print of two Female Orphan Children.
1.
Like two fair flowers that grow in some lone spot,
Bent by the breeze that wafts their fragrance round—
Pale, mild, and lovely; but by all forgot,—
They droop neglected on the dewy ground.
2.
Thus left alone, without a friend or guide
To cheer them, through life’s drear and rugged way
Stand these two pensive mourners side by side,
To sorrow keen, and early grief, a prey.
3.
Low in the grave, o’er which the cypress spreads
Its gloomy shade, in death their parents sleep;
Unconscious now they rest their weary heads,
Nor hear their children sigh, nor see them weep.