To his home, his once white, once lov'd cottage, <br />Late at night, a poor inebriate came; <br />To his wife, the waiting wife and daughter <br />Who for him had fann'd the midnight flame. <br />Rudely met, they answer'd him with kindness -- <br />Gave him all their own untasted store; <br />'Twas but small, and he with awful curses, <br />Spurn'd the gift, and drove them from the door. <br /> <br />While the storm, the wild wild wintry tempest, <br />Swept across the prairies cold and white; <br /> <br />What a shame that Lillie and her mother <br />Were abroad on such a fearful night! <br /> <br />Far across the prairie stood a dwelling, <br />Where from harm they oft had found retreat; <br />Thither now, all brave and uncomplaining, <br />Did they urge their weary, wayworn feet. <br />But their strength, unequal to their courage, <br />Fail'd them as they wander'd to and fro; <br />Till at last, the feeble, fainting mother, <br />Speechless sank upon the drifted snow. <br /> <br />Lillie prays -- the harps are hush'd in Heaven -- <br />Angels poise them midway in the sky; <br />Up from earth there comes a wail of sorrow, <br />Such a wail as must be heard on High. <br />"Father dear! my other, better Father! <br />Won't you hear your daughter Lillie pray? <br />Won't you send some strong and careful angel, <br />Who will help my mother on her way?" <br /> <br />Morning dawns -- the husband and the father, <br />Sober'd now, to seek his flock has come; <br />Lillie dear is living, but her mother -- <br />Hours ago, an angel bore her home. <br />Ah, poor man! how bitter is his anguish, <br />As he now repents his punish'd sins, <br />Bending o'er the child, who, half unconscious, <br />Sadly cries, "Please father, let us in!"<br /><br />Henry Clay Work<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lillie-of-the-snowstorm/
