The Lame Brother

My parents sleep both in one grave; My only friend's a brother. The dearest things upon the earth We are to one another. A fine stout boy I knew him once, With active form and limb; Whene'er he leaped, or jumped, or ran, O I was proud of him! He leaped too far, he got a hurt, He now does limping go.- When I think on his active days, My heart is full of woe. He leans on me, when we to school Do every morning walk; I cheer him on his weary way, He loves to hear my talk: The theme of which is mostly this, What things he once could do. He listens pleased-then sadly says, 'Sister, I lean on you.' Then I reply, 'Indeed you're not Scarce any weight at all.- And let us now still younger years To memory recall. 'Led by your little elder hand, I learned to walk alone; Careful you used to be of me, My little brother John. 'How often, when my young feet tired, You've carried me a mile!- And still together we can sit, And rest a little while. 'For our kind master never minds, If we're the very last; He bids us never tire ourselves With walking on too fast.'