Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1869-02-10
The CHRONICLE.
IN A CROWDED COURT.
BY EDMUND KIRKE.


In a crowded court, in a crowded town,
In desOlate attic, bare and brown,
woman sits in a tattered gown,
Wringing her hands in wlld despair,
And breathing a wand broken prayer;
While her frozen tears lall, one DE one,
Like pattering hail ON the cold hearth
Rut with all the din her sorrow makes,
The child in her arms never awakes,
Nor the silent man, so stiff and stark,
Hiswhite face cleaning through the dark,
From the wrefched bed upon the moor;
For with cold the child is stin and NUMB,
And the dead is deaf as wei as uuino =
Ifhe were not. from the distant shore
OF the dark-fiOwing river that ne has
Though its waters are wide and tempest
He would come back to save his child,
And his fair young wife who Is praying
On n scene like this the moon looked down,
As it rode one night DER merry town.
A merry tOWn-for all are OUT
The young and the old for a winter rout;
And a blended chorus of song and shout,
With many chime of merry bells,
On the frosty air In music swells;
Till even the snow. that the wind whirls
round,
And the gloomy old houses, lit up by the
I.ooK on, and smile, as the revelers pass.
Even the far-Of moon hears the sound
As NlAG WINS TIT AAAEsAAA ~ -
But sadly she looks on the wildering
OF song and shout and ring. ng mirth,
That She sees below on the snow-clad
earth;
Forthough thewaIls are thick between
The noisy street and the silent room.
The Joyous roar and the CHASTITY gloom,
She sees the dead, lying Stin and stark,
The starving child. asleep in the dark,
And the wretched mother, in taitered gown,
4 .afH faUnNT Tf,1 1aagr IN .
The heartless town, for the passers-by
Go swiftly on, with averted eye,
And leave her alone in the street TO die.
To die-fO sink on the glistenlng snow,
And find the resi- she longs to know?
Rest! with her child alone in the dark!
Alone with the man so stiff and stark,
1t cannot be, so, taking heart,
She staggers on to n crowded mart,
Where abundance of food is teInptingly
shown;
oh God! that a little were only her own!
She never has begged, but now she
'-Some food, kind sirs, a Ihorsel of bread
My child isstarving, my husband is dead"
The only reply Is the surly phrase:
a plenty Of scraps is scattered around:
Go, pick them up-they litter the ground
Into the BASKET on her arm,
She gathers the scraps, and-what is the
harm?
II is nothing worth-a morsel of meat
She hides underneath, for her child TO eat.
But an eye is on her. an eye and a frOwn,
ana uerClieSS arm aTOullu AAeI = tAAoNhs
She pleads in vain, for his heart is stone.
Must the rest be told? A cold, damp cell
In a station hOuse,-the doorway of hell
And a throng Of fiends Of every hue,
Cursing and bowling the long night
through.
Day dawns at last, and her tale is told;
Justice is kind; she goes out in the cold
Out TO the deSolate attic room,
She left last night in such CHASTITY gloom.
gs- She opens the door-they are lying
F a-r ~ 30 there
One small white arm across his breast,
The other appraised as If in prayer.
Upraised, but frozen as stin and stark
AS the man who died in the cold and the
dark.
Sothee child fell asleep in the wintry night,
-- But Il woke ere the morn in endless light.
On a scene like this the sun looked down,
AS it rode one day DER this wretched town.