My chaise the village Inn did gain,
Just as the setting sun's last ray
Tipt with refulgent gold the vane
Of the old church across the way.

Across the way I silent sped
The time till supper to beguile
In moralizing o'er the dead,
That moulder'd round the ancient pile.

There many a humble green grave shew'd
Where want and pain and toil did rest;
And many a flatt'ring stone I view'd,
O'er those who once had wealth possess'd.

A faded beach its shadow brown
Threw o'er a grave where sorrow slept:
On which, though scarce with grass o'er grown,
Two ragged children sat and wept.

A piece of bread between them lay,
Which neither seem'd inclin'd to take:
And yet they look'd so much a prey
To want; it made my heart to ache.

My little children, let me know
Why you in such distress appear;
And why you wasteful from you throw
That bread which many a heart would cheer?

The little boy, in accents sweet,
Replied, whilst tears each other chas'd,
'Lady, we've not enough to eat,
'And if we had, we would not waste.

'But sister Mary's naughty grown,
'And will not eat, whate'er I say,
'Though sure I am the bread's her own,
'And she has tasted none to day.'

'Indeed (the wan starv'd MARY said)
'Till HENRY eats I'll eat no more;
'For yesterday I got some bread;
'He's had none since the day before.'

My heart did swell, my bosom heave;
I felt as though deprived of speech-
I silent sat upon the grave,
And press'd a clay-cold hand of each.

With looks that told a tale of woe,
With looks that spoke a grateful heart,
The shiv'ring boy did nearer draw,
And thus their tale of woe impart-

'Before my father went away,
'Entic'd by bad men o'er the sea,
'Sister and I did nought but play-
'We liv'd beside yon great ash tree.

'And then poor mother did so cry,
'And look'd so chang'd, I cannot tell;
'She told us that she soon should die,
'And bade us love each other well.

'She said that when the war is o'er,
'Perhaps we might our father see;
But if we never saw him more,
'That God our father then would be.

'She kiss'd us both, and then she died,
'And we no more a mother have-
'Here many a day we sat and cried
'Together on poor mother's grave.

'But when our father came not here,
'I thought if we could find the sea,
'We should be sure to meet him there,
'And once again might happy be.

'We hand and hand went many a mile,
'And ask'd our way of all we met,
'And some did sigh, and some did smile,
'And we of some did victuals get.

'But when we reach'd the sea, and found,
''Twas one great water round us spread,
'We thought that father must be drown'd,
'And cried and wish'd us both were dead.

'So we return'd to mother's grave,
'And only long with her to be!
'For Goody, when this bread she gave,
'Said father died beyond the sea.

'Then since no parents have we here,
'We'll go and seek for God around,
'Lady, pray can you tell us where
'That God, our Father, may be found?

'He lives in Heaven, mother said,
'And Goody says that mother's there;
'So if she thinks we want his aid,
'I think, perhaps, she'll send him here.'

I clasp'd the prattlers to my breast,
And cried, come both and live with me-
I'll clothe ye, feed ye, give ye rest,
And will a second mother be.

And God will be your father still;
'Twas he in mercy sent me here,
To teach you to obey his will,
Your steps to guide, your hearts to cheer.