My father and mother are dead, <br />Nor friend, nor relation I know; <br />And now the cold earth is their bed, <br />And daisies will over them grow. <br /> <br />I cast my eyes into the tomb, <br />The sight made me bitterly cry; <br />I said, "And is this the dark room, <br />Where my father and mother must lie?" <br /> <br />I cast my eyes round me again, <br />In hopes some protector to see; <br />Alas! but the search was in vain, <br />For none had compassion on me. <br /> <br />I cast my eyes up to the sky, <br />I groan'd, though I said not a word; <br />Yet GOD was not deaf to my cry, <br />The Friend of the fatherless heard. <br /> <br />For since I have trusted his care, <br />And learn'd on his word to depend, <br />He has kept me from every snare, <br />And been my best Father and Friend.<br /><br />Jane Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-orphan/
