The New Excelsior

The wintry night was dark and wild,
When through the city streets a child,
Of beauty rare and clad in rags,
Went wandering o'er its stony flags.

Around her all was happiness ;
The lights burnt bright in her distress;
Glad voices of the young and fair
Were wafted through the midnight air.

From out her blue and eager eyes
The hunger gleamed without disguise ;
Her limbs were cold, her naked feet
Were wounded by the cruel street.

A little match-girl was the maid ;
Her matches sold the money paid
For last night's bed of rags and straws,
Her little shawl she closer draws.

For love she sigh'd, for love she cried,
But there was none to be her guide.
Alone in sorrow grim and vast,
Of all her race she was the last.

On, on she went with naked feet,
And heard the sound of her heart's beat.
Scarce knew she where she went, or why :
The only hope she had - to die.

At break of day, upon the ground,
A little human waif was found ;
With folded hands upon her breast,
She sought, and found, in death - her rest.

The little tired soul was safe
Where Love enfold each orphan waif ;
High heaven unlocked the golden door,
And God will bless her evermore.

Written by
Annie Colenso Symons


More of Annie Colenso Symons' work can be found in a volume of poems entitled A Lay of Japan which was published in 1909.