THE OUTCAST.

Otago Witness, Issue 2289, 13 January 1898, Page 41

THE OUTCAST.

Her face was thiu ; her eyes were bright, Aud shone with that strange, glaasy light 'I hat tells of bure decay. Yet never paused hei w*ary feet T ! ll past the long and lonely street She reached the churchyard grey. The creaking wicket'd dreary noise Beem'd lik-j a warning ghos'ly voice To bid her come not near ; While solemnly in the old church tower The bell toll'd forth the awful hour— The laat that she should hear ! She slopp'd besie'e a little grave Wher>- the sere grassei idly wave Beneath lhe wiutiy t-ky. Ami there sbe knelt and kisa'd the sod, And thbi-o with broken cries to God She pivty'd that &he niig v t die ! The cold blast pieiced her gainieuts thin, And wiih a wild, ut.eaith!y rtm Sto md lound the old yew ttee ; Yet thore wab mercy in its breath — Ifc brought the kind leiief of death To want and misery. Aud none were there to close her eyes, To i^pesk of love that never dies, Or breaths obe heartfelt prayer. But oh. methi.vks, ere life hao flown, A child's soft voice from he-yen cime clown And bade her welcome there 1 They laid her by her little child — Her little darling, "meek and mild" — Where the sere grasses wave, And thtre a simple grey heailstone Telli how tbe mother died, alone, Upon her daughter's grave. 'auuary 1898. — H. J. B.