Classic and Contemporary Poetry
A STRAY CHILD, by ELIZA SPROAT TURNER Poet's Biography First Line: The chill november day was done Last Line: "I should get lost without it." Variant Title(s): A Little Goose | ||||||||
THE chill November day was done, The working world home faring; The wind came roaring through the streets And set the gas-lights flaring; And hopelessly and aimlessly The scared old leaves were flying; When, mingled with the sighing wind, I heard a small voice crying. And shivering on the corner stood A child of four, or over; No cloak or hat her small, soft arms, And wind blown curls to cover. Her dimpled face was stained with tears; Her round blue eyes ran over; She cherished in her wee, cold hand, A bunch of faded clover. And one hand round her treasure while She slipped in mine the other: Half scared, half confidential, said, "Oh! please, I want my mother!" "Tell me your street and number, pet: Don't cry, I'll take you to it." Sobbing she answered, "I forget: The organ made me do it. "He came and played at Milly's steps, The monkey took the money; And so I followed down the street, The monkey was so funny. I've walked about a hundred hours, From one street to another: The monkey's gone, I've spoiled my flowers, Oh! please, I want my mother." "But what's your mother's name? and what The street? Now think a minute." "My mother's name is mamma dear -- The street -- I can't begin it." "But what is strange about the house, Or new -- not like the others?" "I guess you mean my trundle-bed, Mine and my little brother's. "Oh dear! I ought to be at home To help him say his prayers, -- He's such a baby he forgets; And we are both such players; -- And there's a bar to keep us both From pitching on each other, For Harry rolls when he's asleep: Oh dear! I want my mother." The sky grew stormy; people passed All muffled, homeward faring: You'll have to spend the night with me," I said at last, despairing. I tied a kerchief round her neck -- "What ribbon's this, my blossom?" "Why don't you know?" she smiling, said, And drew it from her bosom. A card with number, street, and name; My eyes astonished met it; "For," said the little one, "you see I might sometimes forget it: And so I wear a little thing That tells you all about it; For mother says she's very sure I should get lost without it." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ANGEL'S VISIT by ELIZA SPROAT TURNER FIVE KERNELS OF CORN [APRIL, 1622] by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH AN ELEGY UPON THE DEATH OF DOCTOR DONNE, DEAN OF PAUL'S by THOMAS CAREW ECHOES: 6 by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY THE HOLY SCRIPTURES (1) by GEORGE HERBERT HIS PRAYER TO BEN JONSON by ROBERT HERRICK LOVE'S YOUNG DREAM by THOMAS MOORE ON THE 'VITA NUOVA' OF DANTE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |
|