The chill November day was done,
The working world home a-faring,
The wind came roaring through the streets,
And set the gas lamps flaring.
And hopelessly and aimlessly
The seared old leaves were flying,
When, mingled with the sighing wind,
I heard a small voice crying,
And shivering on the corner stood
A child of four or over;
No hat nor cloak her small soft arms
Or wind-blown curls to cover.
Her dimpled face was stained with tears;
Her round blue eyes ran over;
She crushed within her wee, cold hands
A bunch of faded clover.
And one hand round her treasures,
While she slipped in mine the other,
Half-scared, half-confidential, said
"Oh! please, I want my mother."
"Tell me your street name and number, pet;
Don't cry, I'll take you to it,"
Sobbing, she answered, "I forget--
The organ made me do it."
"He came and played at Miller's steps;
The monkey took the money;
And so I followed down the street,
That monkey was so funny.
I've walked about a _hundred hours_,
From one street to another;
The monkey's gone; I've spoiled my flowers:
Oh! please, I want my mother."
"But what's your mother's name?
And what's the street? now think a minute."
"My mother's name is mamma dear,
The street--I can't begin it."
"But what is strange about the house,
Or new--not like the others?"
I guess you mean my trundle bed--
Mine and my little brother's.
Oh! dear, I ought to be at home,
to help him say his prayers;
He's such a baby, he forgets,
And we are both such players.
"And there's a bar between, to keep
From pitching on each other;
For Harry rolls when he's asleep--
Oh! dear, I want my mother."
The sky grew stormy, people passed,
All muffled, homeward faring;
"You'll have to spend the night with me,"
I said at last, despairing.
I spied a ribbon about her neck.
"What ribbon's this, my blossom?"
"Why, don't you know?" she smiling asked,
And drew it from her bosom.
A card with number, street, and name!
My eyes astonished, met it.
"For," said the little one, "you see
I might some tome forget it.
And so I wear a little thing
That tells you all about it;
For mother says she's very sure
I might get lost without it.