"One bright day, with feeble footsteps Slowly forth he tried to crawl Through the crowded city"s pathways, Till he reached a garden-wall, Where "mid princely halls and mansions Stood the lordliest of all.
"There were trees with giant branches, Velvet glades where shadows hide; There were sparkling fountains glancing, Flowers, which in luxuriant pride Even wafted breaths of perfume To the child who stood outside.
"He against the gate of iron Pressed his wan and wistful face, Gazing with an awe-struck pleasure At the glories of the place; Never had his brightest day-dream Shone with half such wondrous grace.
"You were playing in that garden, Throwing blossoms in the air, Laughing when the petals floated Downwards on your golden hair; And the fond eyes watching o"er you, And the splendor spread before you, Told a House"s Hope was there.
"When your servants, tired of seeing Such a face of want and woe, Turning to the ragged orphan, Gave him coin, and bade him go, Down his cheeks so thin and wasted Bitter tears began to flow.
"But that look of childish sorrow On your tender child-heart fell, And you plucked the reddest roses From the tree you loved so well, Pa.s.sed them through the stern cold grating, Gently bidding him "Farewell!"
"Dazzled by the fragrant treasure And the gentle voice he heard, In the poor forlorn boy"s spirit, Joy, the sleeping Seraph, stirred; In his hand he took the flowers, In his heart the loving word.
"So he crept to his poor garret; Poor no more, but rich and bright; For the holy dreams of childhood-- Love, and Rest, and Hope, and Light-- Floated round the orphan"s pillow Through the starry summer night.
"Day dawned, yet the visions lasted; All too weak to rise he lay; Did he dream that none spake harshly,-- All were strangely kind that day?
Surely then his treasured roses Must have charmed all ills away.
"And he smiled, though they were fading; One by one their leaves were shed; "Such bright things could never perish, They would bloom again," he said.
When the next day"s sun had risen Child and flowers both were dead.
"Know, dear little one, our Father Will no gentle deed disdain; Love on the cold earth beginning Lives divine in Heaven again; While the angel hearts that beat there Still all tender thoughts retain."
So the angel ceased, and gently O"er his little burden leant; While the child gazed from the shining, Loving eyes that o"er him bent, To the blooming roses by him.
Wondering what that mystery meant.
Thus the radiant angel answered, And with tender meaning smiled: "Ere your childlike, loving spirit, Sin and the hard world defiled, G.o.d has given me leave to seek you,-- I was once that little child!"
In the churchyard of that city Rose a tomb of marble rare, Decked, as soon as Spring awakened, With her buds and blossoms fair,-- And a humble grave beside it,-- No one knew who rested there.
_Adelaide A. Procter_.
[Ill.u.s.tration: _Kaulbach_.]
Enlarge the following brief summary of the Angel"s Story into a composition the length of which to be determined by your teacher. Use many of the words and forms of expression you find in the poem.
THE ANGEL"S STORY
A poor little boy, to whom a child of wealth had in pity given a bunch of "reddest roses," died with the fading flowers. Afterwards he came as a "radiant angel" to visit his dying friend, and in a spirit of grat.i.tude bore him to heaven.
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al" ti tude as tound" ing ve loc" i ty vag" a bond mus tach" es hes i ta" ting ly par" a lyzed tre men" dous ex tra or" di na ry
GLUCK"S VISITOR.
It was drawing toward winter, and very cold weather, when one day Gluck"s two older brothers had gone out, with their usual warning to little Gluck, who was left to mind the roast, that he was to let n.o.body in and give nothing out. Gluck sat down quite close to the fire, for it was raining very hard. He turned and turned, and the roast got nice and brown.
"What a pity," thought Gluck, "that my brothers never ask anybody to dinner. I"m sure, when they have such a nice piece of mutton as this, it would do their hearts good to have somebody to eat it with them." Just as he spoke there came a double knock at the house door, yet heavy and dull, as though the knocker had been tied up. "It must be the wind,"
said Gluck; "n.o.body else would venture to knock double knocks at our door."
No; it wasn"t the wind. There it came again very hard, and what was particularly astounding the knocker seemed to be in a hurry, and not to be in the least afraid of the consequences. Gluck put his head out the window to see who it was.
It was the most extraordinary looking little gentleman he had ever seen in his life. He had a very large nose, slightly bra.s.s-colored; his cheeks were very round and very red; his eyes twinkled merrily through long, silky eyelashes; his mustaches curled twice round like a corkscrew on each side of his mouth, and his hair, of a curious mixed pepper-and-salt color, descended far over his shoulders. He was about four feet six in height, and wore a conical pointed cap of nearly the same alt.i.tude, decorated with a black feather some three feet long. He wore an enormous black, glossy-looking cloak, which must have been very much too long in calm weather, as the wind carried it clear out from the wearer"s shoulders to about four times his own length.
Gluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the appearance of his visitor that he remained fixed, without uttering a word, until the old gentleman turned round to look after his fly-away cloak. In so doing he caught sight of Gluck"s little yellow head jammed in the window, with its mouth and eyes very wide open indeed.
"h.e.l.lo!" said the little gentleman, "that"s not the way to answer the door. I"m wet; let me in." To do the little gentleman justice, he _was_ wet. His feather hung down between his legs like a beaten puppy"s tail, dripping like an umbrella; and from the end of his mustaches the water was running into his waistcoat pockets, and out again like a mill stream.
"I"m very sorry" said Gluck, "but I really can"t."
"Can"t what?" said the old gentleman.
"I can"t let you in, sir. My brothers would beat me to death, sir, if I thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?"
"Want?" said the old gentleman. "I want fire and shelter; and there"s your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on the walls, with n.o.body to feel it. Let me in, I say."
Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the window that he began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold. When he turned and saw the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing long, bright tongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops at the savory smell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him that it should be burning away for nothing.
"He does look _very_ wet," said little Gluck; "I"ll just let him in for a quarter of an hour."
As the little gentleman walked in, there came a gust of wind through the house that made the old chimney totter.