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The wind came roaring through the streets
And set the gas-lights flaring;
The sered old leaves were flying ;
I heard a sınall voice crying
2. And shivering on the corner stood
A child of four or over ;
And wind-brown curls to cover;
Her.round, blue eyes ran over;
A bunch of faded clover.
8. And one hand round her treasure, while
She slipped in mine the other;
“Oh! please, I want my mother.”
Don't cry, I'll take you to it.”—
inade me do it.
4. “He came and played at Miller's steps;
The monkey took the money,
That monkey was so funny.
From one street to another;
Oh, please, I want my mother."
5. “ But what's
The street-I can't begin it.”
not like the others ? ” —
Mine and my little brother's.
6. “Oh! dear! I ought to be at home
To help him say his prayers;
And we are both such players-
From pitching on each other,
O dear! I want my mother."
All inuffled, homeward faring;
I said, at last, despairing.
“ What ribbon's this, my blossom ?”
And drew it from her bosoin. 8. A card, with number, street and name;
My eyes astonished met it;
I might sometimes forget it;
That tells you all about it;
1 should get lost without it."
1. 0, what a merry, rushing throng,
With bounding joy and dance and song,
2. Quick bounds the pulse, the red blood flies
Swift through the veins, and fair cheeks dyes.
3. Bright floating curls of sunny hair
Shade fair young brows unwrit with care.
4. Flash forth the joy that in them wells,
Up springing from the heart's deep cells.
5. Whoop and halloa! See what a race !
Old Time himself can scarce keep pace!
6. And will it prove but idle dream
To wish, when on the village green
7. But thought and care and toilsome tramp
For sixty years, have set their stamp
8. But what if now I throw aside,
And careless fling to wind and tide,
9. I'll try and see; perhaps they'll say
The poor old man has had his day.
10. Across the green, and up the hill,
Around the corner, past the mill,
11. My eyes are dim, but yet I see
That in the race they've outstripped me.
12. One little girl, with cheeks aglow,
With voice so wondrous soft and low,
13. So now I've done; no more I'll try
To cheat the years, and skip them by.
That proves the fact, I'm growing old. 14. These climb the hill ; 1 down the slope
Toward the foot so blindly grope.
15. And when, for all, life's race is run,
The books are closed and school is done,
16. Weary of work, and tired of play,
Gladly we'll take our homeward way,