One window held him spell-bound-- From end to end 'twas piled With loaves of bread a tempting sight To a half-famished child.

He clapped his little cold wet hands, And almost danced for joy, It seemed a glimpse of paradise To that poor hungry boy.

With timid step he ventured in, And, trembling, thus began:-- "Please, sir, I've come to beg for bread-- Do help me if you can.

"I do not want it for myself, My mother, too, shall share; Do give me just one little crust, If you've a crust to spare."

"Give!" cried the shopman in a rage-- "What shall we live to see?

Go tell your mother she must work, And earn her bread, like me."

"But mother, sir, is very sick, She cannot work, I'm sure; Father died some months ago, And left us very poor.

"She has not tasted food for days.

And die I fear she must.

Unless you'll help us, Christian sir; Do spare a little crust!"

"I'll spare you nothing, saucy imp!

Away this moment! run!

And tell your sickly mother I cannot thus be done!"

He left the shop, and in the street He sat him down to cry, He heard the trampling of the feet Of those who pa.s.sed him by.

He could not ask another, For his every hope had fled,-- ('Tis sad that in a land like this A child needs beg for bread.)

Wet, cold, and faint, he reached his home, No richer than before, And noiselessly he entered in, And gently closed the door.

There is no sound, the mother sleeps-- Then groping for the bed, He bent his weak and stiffened knees, And bowed his weary head,

And pray'd "that G.o.d would grant them help, And bring them safely through."

The whisper'd prayer was borne above, Was heard, and answered too:

And when the morning's sun looked in, And filled the place with light, Two lifeless bodies on the straw Was all that met the sight.

Thus were they found, alone, and dead, No reason left to show How they had come to that sad end; And no one cared to know.