American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1869-06-12
po&trp
TEE LOST CHILD.

TEE LOST CHILD.
1.-THE following exquisitely simple verses
rom the pen of an unknown" will toucI
be heart of every father and mother:1
The chill November day was done,
The working world home faring;
The wind came roaring through the street
And set the gasights faring;
And hopelessly and aimlessly
The scared off leavea were aying.
When. mingled with the saughing wiud,
heard small voice crying
And shivering on the corner stood
A child of fonr or over;
No cloak nor 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 bnnch of faded clover.
And one hand round her treasure, while
She slipped in mine the other,
Half scared, halt confidential said,
"Oh please, want my mother.
"TelI me your street and number, pet
Don t cry, II take you to it."
Sobbing, she answered. 6 forget;
"T The organ made me do it.
"IIe came and played at Milly's step,
The monkey took the money,
And SO followed down the street,
The monkey was funny.
81 We walked about hundred hours
From one street to another;
80 The monkeys gone, I've spoiled my flowers
"0h! please, want my mother"
" Bat what's your mothers name, and what
=" The street? now think minute
MY mothers name is mamma dear
The street, can't begin it,
" But what is strange about the house,
Or new. not like the others p
Il guess yon mean my trunde bed,
Mine and my little brothers..
"Oh, dear, | ought to be at home
T. To help him say his prayers,
" He 5 such baby he fo.scts,
And we are both such players
And thers 5 a bar between to keep
=" From pitching on each other.
For Harry rolls when he s asleep;
"Oh, dear! want my mother"
The sky grew stormy people
AL mt flied, homeward faring;
You Il have to spend the night with me"
said at length despuiing
tied kerchief round her neck
- What ribbon 5 this my blossom?'
"why! don't you know" she smiled, and asked
And dIew it from her bosom.
A card. with number, street, and name;
My eyes astoniShed met it,
For" said the little one, " you see
:" might sometime forget it;
And so / wear a little thing
" That tells you all abolt it;
For mother says she 5 very
. would get lost without it,
THE following po m was written by TIENR
TIMROD, South Carolina poet, who died about
year ago. The reader, says the Boston Advertise
is not required to be a defender of the " faIle
cause" in order to appreciate the singu,arly fiji
feeling and noble expression which charncterii
the verses They were greatly admired by Il
late Governor Andrew who often repeated the
to his friends-the last time but few days befo
his death-and it is from a manuscript in Il
handwriting of one of his children that the pot
is copied here
ODE
Sung on The occasion of decorating the grarrS
ihc Confederate dead, at Magnolia Com Il,
Charleston. 5. {.
Sleep sweety in your humble graves
Sleep. martyrs OF fallen cause!
Though yet no marble column Graves
The pilgrim here to pause.
In seeds # Laurel IN the earth
The blossom of your fame is blown,
And somewhere, waiting for its birth
The sEaf IS in the stone
Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years
Which keep in trust your STORED tombs,
Behold your sisters bring their tears,
And these memorial blooms.
".
Small tribute but your shades will smile
Mere proudly on those wreaths to day,
Than when some cannon-mOuldered piln
Shall overlook this bay.
Y.
Stoop, angels, hither from the skies!
There is no holier spot Of ground
Than where defeated vllor lies,
BY mourning beauty crowned