POETRY FOR CHILDREN. THE BEGGAR MAN. AROUND ROUND the fire one wintry night The farmer's rosy children sat; The faggot lent its blazing light, And jokes went round and careless chat. When, hark! a gentle hand they hear The Beggar Man. "Cold blows the blast across the moor, My eyes are weak and dim with age, "So faint I am-these tottering feet "Open your hospitable door, And shield me from the biting blast: With hasty step the farmer ran, With shaking limbs and blue-pale face. The |