Poor little Frank was twelve years old, A puny boy and pale ;
His brushes he could hardly hold,
So weak was he and frail.
So sweet his suffering-seraph face,
And tender, patient eyes,
And gentle, melancholy grace,
That people, in surprise,
Would stand and gaze with pitying stare,
And murmur at the fate
That doomed a child so softly fair
To pine in low estate.
And many an honest, worthy man, Whose heart with love was gushing, His boots would straight begin to scan And vow they wanted brushing.
Thus penny payments, boot by boot,
From morn till day's decline,
Made Frankie's purse of stocking-foot
A perfect copper-mine.
Soon round the steaming supper-pot
They'd make such loving mirth,
The room would seem a sacred spot,
A humble heaven on earth.
Outside was one who'd gaze and gaze
With envy in his face,
And wish that he might spend his days
In that most pleasant place.
'Twas Jim,—a great unlucky lad,
A silent, sullen fellow;
No sort of training had he had
To make his nature mellow.
A homeless stroller of the town,
In daily want of food,
The lad would wander up and down
And labour where he could.
'Tis sunset. See, with weary strain
Poor Frankie homeward limps :
He nears a dark and dismal lane-
Out rush some savage imps.
And trembling little Frankie yields
What he can keep no longer :
But ah! submission seldom shields
Weak boyhood from the stronger!
These fiends (or, maybe, embryo saints)
Are not content to rob,
And beat poor Frankie till he faints,
To finish up the job.
And oft again they worked their will,
Delighted with the prank
That made the little cripple's till
Their steady Savings-bank.
But listen now, as Frankie sat
One morning on the quay,
Came Jimmy to him (lads like that
Are introduction-free),
And there and then did Jim propose
A Treaty of Alliance,
Thro' which young Frank might set his foes Completely at defiance.
Terms fixed :-Imprimis, Jim shall smite
The thieves of Frankie's hoard;
Secundo, Frank shall every night
Give Jimmy bed and board.
One day that dreadful place Frank nears,
That dark secluded lane, Where hide the enemy: his ears And eyes are on the strain.
Oh, terrible! though help, he knew,
Would certain come as fate,
Thinks Frank-" Whatever shall I do
If Jim arrives too late!"
Hark! screeches, whistles, curses clang-
A peal to please the devil :
Out rush the ragamuffin gang
And lay poor Frankie level.
But suddenly their fiendish fun
Was strangely brought to check,
And such confusion was begun
As when upon the deck
Of pirate-ship a bombshell grounds
And sends the fragments flying:
'Tis Jimmy, who with tiger-bounds
Arrives where Frank is lying,
And unexpected grace extends,
Expressed in bounteous blows,
To these who thought themselves his friends
But find themselves his foes.
Thus Jimmy, every trick they try
He merely strikes the stronger.
He smote the sinners hip and thigh,
Till fight they could no longer.
A happy boy was Frank indeed,
As he may guess who chooses,
His pennies from the spoiler freed,
His body safe from bruises.
He utter'd ne'er a word at all,
But merely gazed at Jim,
And bought some apples at a stall
And gave them all to him.
What need to chronicle the joy
Of mother and of sisters, Enraptured to behold their boy
Preserved from wounds and blisters !
They kissed and kissed his tiny face,
Each jealous of the other;
And took brave Jimmy into grace,
And made him son and brother.
They feasted him with choicest fare,
And on their warmest bed,
The lad (half wondering if he dare)
Reposed his ragged head.
BURROW, burrow, like the mole,
Ye who shape the columned caves!
Ye are black with clinging coal,
Black as fiery Afric's slaves!
Sink the shadowy shaft afar
Deep into our native star!
Rend her iron ribs apart,
Where her hidden treasures are,
Nestled near her burning heart!
Dig, nor think how forests grow
Above your heads-how waters flow
Responsive to the song of birds—
How blossoms paint in silent words
What hearts may feel but cannot know!
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