Frederick George Scott



A Waif

This place is holy, Christ has been
        In it to-day;
The little girl behind this screen
        Has passed away.

Her soul has sought the boundless deep


        Beyond these skies.
Then fold her wasted hands to sleep,
        And close her eyes.

No more their glazing pupils see
         This crowded ward;


She walks now in eternity
        Beside her Lord.

Put back the dark hair from her brow,
         And smooth her cheek
Those white lips would be praying now


        If they could speak.

Make straight each crippled limb again,
         And raise her head;
It once would make her cry with pain
        To touch her bed.


The winter shadows as they fall
        Begin to hide
The little texts upon the wall
        That were her pride.

But where she wanders far away

        The hills are bright;
She rests, our little waif and stray,
        With God to-night. [Page 104]