  "We cannot," said the people, "stand these children, Always round us with their racketing and play; Yon Church-garden set right down among our houses Is really quite a nuisance in its way! "True, their homes are very dull, and bare, and dismal, And the narrow courts they live in dark and small, And we think they love that sparsely-planted acre— But we do not want to think of them at all! "There are surely parks enough to make a play-ground, And we might be spared these noisy little feet; But the parks, the Clergy say, are all too distant, And so they planned this garden in the street! "No doubt the seats are pleasanter than curb-stones, While the trees make quite a shelter from the sun, And the grass does nicely for the crawling babies— But somebody must think of Number One! "And the air the children get of course is purer; But then the noise they make is very great, With their laughter and their shouting to each other, And the everlasting banging of the gate! "And the wailing of the sickly, puny babies Is enough to fret one's spirit through and through— No doubt they cry as much in those dark alleys— But then we never hear them if they do! "Half the Parish talks to us of self-denial, Of kindly duties lying at the door, And of One who says the Poor are always with us; But we can't be always thinking of the Poor! "We are older, we are richer, we are wiser; Why should we be vexed and troubled in our ease? Just because the children like the Vicar's garden, With its faded grass and smoky London trees! "Still we feel sometimes a little self-convicted, When we hear the hard-worked kindly Clergy say That it helps them often in their weary labours, Just to see the children happy at their play! "Yet we think they try to make the thing too solemn, When they put aside our protests with the plea: 'Whatsoe'er ye did to such as these, my brethren, To the least—ye did it even unto Me.'" Thus the people murmured, but the children's Angels Smiled rejoicing, and a richer blessing falls On the Church that made a shelter for the children Underneath the holy shadow of her walls. Christian Burke. |
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