Save that one friend, consoler meet,
Remained to share her lot,
A lamb, which with his plaintive bleat
Fill'd all the little cot.

A stranger there her sire had died,
And strangers came and laid
His dust beneath the sod, and tried
To soothe the orphan maid.

But seeing comfort she would not,
Save from the lambkin mild,
Pitying, they left them in the cot
Together-- lamb and child.

The lamb had been her father's gift,
She loved it for his sake,
And with it, day by day, would shift
Some scanty meal to make.

The lamb consoled her if she wept,
And gambol'd if she smiled,
And so, through all spring, they kept
Together-- lamb and child.

A glance but needed at the pair
To see how like were they:
Yet it might not so quick appear
Wherein that likeness lay.

Fair was her face, her shoeless feet,
Dark like her eyes her hair;
While sooty-faced, the lambkin sweet,
And footed was, else fair.
 
 But it was when you gazed awhile,
That something from within
Bespoke the lambkin without guile,
The maiden without sin.

A patch of garden, trim and neat,
Before the dwelling lay;
And there the flowers her sire had set
Now blossomed, bright and gay.

She offer'd nosegays on the road
To such as went and came,
And what they in return bestowed
Fed her and fed the lamb.

So summer passed across the land,
With plenty in her train;
Next autumn, with industrious hand,
Piled up the yellow grain.

But then came winter, grim and weird,
With heavy step and slow,
And hand of ice and grizzly beard,
Distilling sleet and snow.

His aspect fill'd the air with dread,
And, like a scathing flame,
His breath lick'd up the flowers that fed
The maiden and her lamb.

And so she left her summer home,
She and the lambkin mild,
Abroad in quest of alms to roam
Together--  lamb and child.

Full oft she told her tale of woe
To busy passers by;
Few cared a hearing to bestow,
Still fewer charity.

And when three weary days were past,
Nor bread she might obtain,
Nor shelter from the icy blast,
Which swept the wintry plain.

Silent she wander'd sorrowing,
Across the cold white snow;
her little lamb still following
With weary pace and slow.

And so night found her, and she lay
Upon the snow to rest:
The little lamb, without dismay,
Came to lay by her breast.

The frozen day began to peep
Athwart the landscape wild,
But they slept on-- and still they sleep
Together--lamb and child.

Ah! Thus thro' life may Innocence,
Whatever ills betide,
Be still my solace and defence,
Nor ever quit my side.

And though my death-couch none attend,
May the all-severing dart
Still fail to cleave that one sweet friend
Asunder from my heart!
 
 
 
This poem appeared in Thoughts in Verse For My Friends by John Bonus, Anna Kingsford's brother, published posthumously in 1914.Being written in the Victorian era, a sentimental poem, but not bad for a 14 year old.