The Orphan

My father and mother are dead,
Nor friend, nor relation I know;
And now the cold earth is their bed,
And daisies will over them grow.

I cast my eyes into the tomb,
The sight made me bitterly cry;
I said, "And is this the dark room,
Where my father and mother must lie?"

I cast my eyes round me again,
In hopes some protector to see;
Alas! but the search was in vain,
For none had compassion on me.

I cast my eyes up to the sky,
I groan'd, though I said not a word;
Yet GOD was not deaf to my cry,
The Friend of the fatherless heard.

For since I have trusted his care,
And learn'd on his word to depend,
He has kept me from every snare,
And been my best Father and Friend.

by Jane Taylor

Comments (4)

HAHA DAS A FUUNAY STORAY BUDDAY MAKE ME TINGLE lolol
Jane, Now it is our dear friends who will be our family. I know exactly what you say. This is part of life. Life is a mystery to be lived and perhaps not a mystery to be solved. - Shirley
This is a very touching poem. It really gets me anytime I read it
awesome.......... now i noe da value of our parents