IF he walked he could not keep beside The lads that were straight and well; And yet, poor boy, how hard he tried, There's none of us can tell. To get himself in trim for school Was weary work, and slow; And once his thoughtless brother said, "You're never ready, Joe!" He sat in the sun, against the wall, When the rest were blithe and gay; For he could not run and catch the ball Nor join in the noisy play. And first or last he would not share In a quarrel or a fight; But he was prompt enough to say, "No, boys, it is n't right!" And when a lad o'er a puzzling "sum" Perplexed his head in doubt, Poor little, patient, hunchbacked Joe, Could always help him out. And surely as the time came round To read, define, and spell, Poor little Joe was ready first, And knew his lessons well. And not a child in Sunday-school Was half so quick as he, To tell who blessed the children once And took them on his knee. And if you could but draw him out, 'T was good to hear him talk Of Him who made the blind to see And caused the lame to walk. When sick upon his bed he lay, He uttered no complaint; For scarce in patient gentleness Was he behind a saint. And when the summons came, that soon Or late must come to all, Poor little, happy, hunchbacked Joe, Was ready for the call. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOHNNY SPAIN'S WHITE HEIFER by HAYDEN CARRUTH NO MATTER WHAT, AFTER ALL, AND THAT BEAUTIFUL WORD SO by HAYDEN CARRUTH WINTER SONG by KATHERINE MANSFIELD MOTHER NATURE by EMILY DICKINSON THE BELEAGUERED CITY by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW AN INTERVIEW WITH MILES STANDISH by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL DREAM-LOVE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |