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THE SALE OF THE PET LAMB, by             Poem Explanation         Poet's Biography
First Line: Oh! Poverty is a weary thing, 'tis full of grief and pain
Last Line: It maketh even the little child with heavy sighs complain.
Alternate Author Name(s): Botham, Mary


Oh! poverty is a weary thing, 't is full of grief and pain,
It boweth down the heart of man, and dulls his cunning brain:
It maketh even the little child with heavy sighs complain!

The children of the rich man have not their bread to win;
They hardly know how labour is the penalty of sin;
Even as the lilies of the field, they neither toil nor spin.

And year by year, as life wears on, no wants have they to bear;
In all the luxury of the earth they have abundant share:
They walk among life's pleasant ways, where all is rich and fair.

The children of the poor man, -- though they be young each one,
Must rise betime each morning, before the rising sun:
And scarcely when the sun is set their daily task is done.

Few things have they to call their own, to fill their hearts with pride,
The sunshine and the summer flowers upon the highway side,
And their own free companionship on heathy commons wide.

Hunger, and cold, and weariness, these are a frightful three,
But another curse there is beside, that darkens poverty;
It may not have one thing to love, how small soe'er it be!

A thousand flocks were on the hills, a thousand flocks and more,
Feeding in sunshine pleasantly; they were the rich man's store:
-- There was the while one little lamb beside the cottage door:

A little lamb that rested with the children 'neath the tree,
That ate, meek creature, from their hands, and nestled to their knee;
That had a place within their hearts, as one of the family.

But want, even as an armed man, came down upon their shed,
The father laboured all day long, that his children might be fed,
And, one by one, their household things were sold to buy them bread.

That father, with a downcast eye, upon his threshold stood;
Gaunt poverty each pleasant thought had in his heart subdued:
"What is the creature's life to us?" said he -- 't will buy us food!

"Ay, though the children weep all day, and with down-drooping head
Each does his small task mournfully, the hungry must be fed:
And that which has a price to bring must go to buy us bread."

It went. Oh! parting has a pang the hardest heart to wring:
But the tender soul of a little child with fervent love doth cling,
With love that hath no feignings false, unto each gentle thing!

Therefore most sorrowful it was those children small to see,
Most sorrowful to hear them plead for the lamb so piteously;
"Oh! mother dear! it loveth us; and what beside have we?"

"Let's take him off to the broad green hill!" in his impotent despair
Said one strong boy: "let's take him off; -- the hills are wide and fair,
I know a little hiding place, and we will keep him there!"

Oh vain! they took the little lamb, and straightway tied him down,
With a strong cord they tied him fast; and o'er the common brown
And o'er the hot and flinty roads, they took him to the town.

The little children through that day and throughout all the morrow,
From everything about the house a mournful thought did borrow;
The very bread they had to eat was food unto their sorrow.

O poverty is a weary thing, 't is full of grief and pain,
It keepeth down the soul of man as with an iron chain;
It maketh even the little child with heavy sighs complain.






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