Legends and Lyrics - Part 1 by Adelaide Anne Procter
page 72 of 218 (33%)
page 72 of 218 (33%)
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Had we but a crust for thee.
Sleep, my darling, thou art weary; God is good, but life is dreary. Better thou shouldst perish early, Starve so soon, my darling one, Than in helpless sin and sorrow Vainly live, as I have done. Better that thy angel spirit With my joy, my peace, were flown, Than thy heart grew cold and careless, Reckless, hopeless, like my own. Sleep, my darling, thou art weary; God is good, but life is dreary. I am wasted, dear, with hunger, And my brain is all opprest, I have scarcely strength to press thee, Wan and feeble, to my breast. Patience, baby, God will help us, Death will come to thee and me, He will take us to his Heaven, Where no want or pain can be. Sleep, my darling, thou art weary; God is good, but life is dreary. Such the plaint that, late and early, Did we listen, we might hear Close beside us,--but the thunder Of a city dulls our ear. |
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