ONE DAY OUT:
A PLEA FOR THE POOR TOWN CHILDREN.
A PLEA FOR THE POOR TOWN CHILDREN.
A PLEA FOR THE POOR TOWN CHILDREN.
“Little town children, say where are you going?The rain hurries down, and a cold wind is blowing.”“To school we are trotting, through lane and through street,Though the rain patters fast, soaking dresses and feet.”“Little town children, your faces are thin;Your footsteps are heavy, your blue eyes are dim.”“Our small homes are crowded, our parents oft sad;There is nothing to make us poor young ones feel glad.”“Little town children, say what are your pleasures?Tell what do you do in your holiday leisures?”“We watch at the window, or play on the stair;The back-yard is wanted, we cannot go there.”“Little town children, and have you not heardIn this bright summer weather the song of a bird?”“Oh yes, sir; the linnet that frets in its cage,Or the brown little sparrow, so dingy and sage.”“Little town children, have soft April showersNot nursed for your playthings the sweet summer flowers?”“Oh yes, sir; for sometimes we linger to greetThe boy who sells wall-flowers out in the street.”“Little town children, are God’s skies so blue,His works and his wonders, all hidden from you?”“Oh no, sir; for once in the year a whole dayWe school-children spend in the country at play.
“Little town children, say where are you going?The rain hurries down, and a cold wind is blowing.”“To school we are trotting, through lane and through street,Though the rain patters fast, soaking dresses and feet.”“Little town children, your faces are thin;Your footsteps are heavy, your blue eyes are dim.”“Our small homes are crowded, our parents oft sad;There is nothing to make us poor young ones feel glad.”“Little town children, say what are your pleasures?Tell what do you do in your holiday leisures?”“We watch at the window, or play on the stair;The back-yard is wanted, we cannot go there.”“Little town children, and have you not heardIn this bright summer weather the song of a bird?”“Oh yes, sir; the linnet that frets in its cage,Or the brown little sparrow, so dingy and sage.”“Little town children, have soft April showersNot nursed for your playthings the sweet summer flowers?”“Oh yes, sir; for sometimes we linger to greetThe boy who sells wall-flowers out in the street.”“Little town children, are God’s skies so blue,His works and his wonders, all hidden from you?”“Oh no, sir; for once in the year a whole dayWe school-children spend in the country at play.
“Little town children, say where are you going?The rain hurries down, and a cold wind is blowing.”“To school we are trotting, through lane and through street,Though the rain patters fast, soaking dresses and feet.”
“Little town children, say where are you going?
The rain hurries down, and a cold wind is blowing.”
“To school we are trotting, through lane and through street,
Though the rain patters fast, soaking dresses and feet.”
“Little town children, your faces are thin;Your footsteps are heavy, your blue eyes are dim.”“Our small homes are crowded, our parents oft sad;There is nothing to make us poor young ones feel glad.”
“Little town children, your faces are thin;
Your footsteps are heavy, your blue eyes are dim.”
“Our small homes are crowded, our parents oft sad;
There is nothing to make us poor young ones feel glad.”
“Little town children, say what are your pleasures?Tell what do you do in your holiday leisures?”“We watch at the window, or play on the stair;The back-yard is wanted, we cannot go there.”
“Little town children, say what are your pleasures?
Tell what do you do in your holiday leisures?”
“We watch at the window, or play on the stair;
The back-yard is wanted, we cannot go there.”
“Little town children, and have you not heardIn this bright summer weather the song of a bird?”“Oh yes, sir; the linnet that frets in its cage,Or the brown little sparrow, so dingy and sage.”
“Little town children, and have you not heard
In this bright summer weather the song of a bird?”
“Oh yes, sir; the linnet that frets in its cage,
Or the brown little sparrow, so dingy and sage.”
“Little town children, have soft April showersNot nursed for your playthings the sweet summer flowers?”“Oh yes, sir; for sometimes we linger to greetThe boy who sells wall-flowers out in the street.”
“Little town children, have soft April showers
Not nursed for your playthings the sweet summer flowers?”
“Oh yes, sir; for sometimes we linger to greet
The boy who sells wall-flowers out in the street.”
“Little town children, are God’s skies so blue,His works and his wonders, all hidden from you?”“Oh no, sir; for once in the year a whole dayWe school-children spend in the country at play.
“Little town children, are God’s skies so blue,
His works and his wonders, all hidden from you?”
“Oh no, sir; for once in the year a whole day
We school-children spend in the country at play.
ONE DAY OUT.
ONE DAY OUT.
ONE DAY OUT.
“Sad little town children no longer we seemAs we frolic about in the meadows so green,And gather pink daisies or buttercups sweet,Then with loud heartfelt hymns close the joys of ‘our treat.’“Glad little town children, our voices we raise;For this one day of pleasure our Father we praise;The lark springs to heaven, its song like a prayer,We hope he is taking our thanks with him there!”
“Sad little town children no longer we seemAs we frolic about in the meadows so green,And gather pink daisies or buttercups sweet,Then with loud heartfelt hymns close the joys of ‘our treat.’“Glad little town children, our voices we raise;For this one day of pleasure our Father we praise;The lark springs to heaven, its song like a prayer,We hope he is taking our thanks with him there!”
“Sad little town children no longer we seemAs we frolic about in the meadows so green,And gather pink daisies or buttercups sweet,Then with loud heartfelt hymns close the joys of ‘our treat.’
“Sad little town children no longer we seem
As we frolic about in the meadows so green,
And gather pink daisies or buttercups sweet,
Then with loud heartfelt hymns close the joys of ‘our treat.’
“Glad little town children, our voices we raise;For this one day of pleasure our Father we praise;The lark springs to heaven, its song like a prayer,We hope he is taking our thanks with him there!”
“Glad little town children, our voices we raise;
For this one day of pleasure our Father we praise;
The lark springs to heaven, its song like a prayer,
We hope he is taking our thanks with him there!”