I know thee well! thy yellow hair In silky waves I oft have seen; Thy dimpled face, so fresh and fair, Thy roguish smile, thy playful mien Were all to me, poor Orphan, known, Ere Fate had left thee—all alone! IV. Thy russet coat is scant, and torn, Thy cheek is now grown deathly pale! Thy eyes are dim, thy looks forlorn, And bare thy bosom meets the gale; And oft I hear thee deeply groan, That thou, poor boy, art left alone. V. Thy naked feet are wounded sore With thorns, that cross thy daily road; The winter winds around thee roar, The church-yard is thy bleak abode; Thy pillow now, a cold grave-stone— And there thou lov’st to grieve—alone! VI. The rain has drench’d thee, all night long; The nipping frost thy bosom froze; And still, the yewtree-shades among, I heard thee sigh thy artless woes; I heard thee, till the day-star shone In darkness weep—and weep alone! VII. Oft have I seen thee, little boy, Upon thy lovely mother’s knee; For when she liv’d—thou wert her joy, Though now a mourner thou must be! For she lies low, where yon grave-stone Proclaims, that thou art left alone. VIII. Weep, weep no more; on yonder hill The village bells are ringing, gay; The merry reed, and brawling rill Call thee to rustic sports away. Then wherefore weep, and sigh, and moan, A truant from the throng—alone? IX. “I cannot the green hill ascend, “I cannot pace the upland mead; “I cannot in the vale attend, “To hear the merry-sounding reed: “For all is still, beneath yon stone, “Where my poor mother’s left alone! X. “I cannot gather gaudy flowers “To dress the scene of revels loud— “I cannot pass the ev’ning hours “Among the noisy village croud— “For, all in darkness, and alone “My mother sleeps, beneath yon stone. XI. “See how the stars begin to gleam “The sheep-dog barks, ’tis time to go;— “The night-fly hums, the moonlight beam “Peeps through the yew-tree’s shadowy row— “It falls upon the white grave-stone, “Where my dear mother sleeps alone.— XII.