Little Bessie the Flower Girl

Little Bessie the Flower Girl

All day long in the crowded street,
Wand'ring about with shoeless feet,
Waif of the shadows, poor and sad,
No cheering friend to make her glad,
No one has she to light her way,
She walks about the long, long day,
Holding flowers to passers by.
No one doth heed her plaintive cry,
Her faded garments, thin and torn,
From day to day she oft has worn;
From street to street she begs her bread,
Some kindly hand her lips have fed.
Her home a shed - her bed of straw -
At night she rests heart-sick and sore,
One stormy night she had a dream,
When o'er her head there shone a gleam
Of light so pure - she felt its rys,
As if they were an angel's gaze.
She saw the sky so bright and fair,
And knew she had a welcome there.
"My father, mother dear," she cries,
"O come and take me to the skies,
Where sweetest flowers ever bloom
And throw around a sweet perfume."
Her dream was o'er, and soon afar,
She stood within the gates ajar.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The morning dawned upon the town,
The sun spread forth his golden crown,
A simple, nameless grave they made,
That tiny form within it laid;
With sweetest flowers on her breast,
Dear little Bessie was at rest.

F.A. Parker

5:9, p. 2

1891.11.21