The Lost Child

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22670, 6 March 1937, Page 8 (Supplement)

The Lost Child

TT was a clear, colli winter night, The heavens were brightly starred, When on St. Bernard's snowy height The good monks kept their guard. And round the hearth that night they told To one, who shelter craved, How the brave dog they thought so old Full forty lives had saved. When suddenly, with kindling eye, Up sprang the old dog there, As from afar a child's shrill cry Bang through the frosty air. In haste the monks unbarred the door, Bugs round the mastiff threw, And as he bounded forth once more, Cried "Blessings be 911 you." They hurried headlong down the hill, Past many a snow-wreath wild, Until the older dog stood still Beside a sleeping child. He licked the little icy hand With his rough, kindly tongue; With his warm breath he gently fanned The tresses fair and long.

The child looked up with eyes of blue As if the whole he guessed; His arms around the dog lie threw, And sank again to rest. Once more lie woke and wrapped him fast In the warm covering sent; The dogs then with their charge at last Up the steep mountain went. The lire glowed bright with heaped-up logs, Each monk brought forth a light, "Good dogs!" they cried, "Good dogs! good dogs! Whom bring ye here to-night?" In with a joyous bound they come— The bov awoke and smiled. "Ah, me!" the stranger said, "some have Mourned for thee, fair child." With the morning light the monks and boy Sought where the village lay. 1 dare not try to paint the joy Their coming gave that day.