POETRY.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 2029, 25 August 1880, Page 3

POETRY.

LIITLE JIM. The cottage was a thatched one, the outside old and mean; Yet everything within that cot was wondrous neat and clean. The night was dark and atormy, the wind was howling wild ; A patient mother knelt beside tho death-bed of her child— A little worn-out creature, his once bright eyes grow dim; He was a collier's only child—they called him " Little Jim." And, oh, to see the briny tears fast hurrying down her cheek, As she offered up a prayer in thought—she was afraid to speak, Lest she might waken one she loved far better than her life; For there was all a mother's love in that poor collier's wife. With hands uplifted, see, she kneels beside the guff'rer's bed, And prays that He will spare her boy, and take herself instead.

Sho gets her answer from the child ; soft fall these words from him—- " Mother, the angola do 80 smile, and beckon Little Jim! I have no pain, dear mother, now; but, oh, I am so dry! Just moisten poor Jim's lips again; and mother, don't you cry." With gentle, trembling haste she held the teacup to his lips ; He smiled to thank her, as he took three tiny little sips.

" Tell father, when he comes from work, I said ' Good night' to him ; And, mother, now I'll go to sleep—alas! poor little Jim!"