Found Dead Poem by Albert Laighton

Found dead! dead and alone!
There was nobody near, nobody near
When the Outcast died on his pillow of stone
No mother, no brother, no sister dear.
Not a friendly voice to soothe or cheer,
Not a watching eye or a pitying tear, —
Oh, the city slept when he died alone
In the roofless street, on a pillow of stone.

Many a weary day went by.
While wretched and worn he begged for bread.
Tired of life, and longing to lie
Peacefully down with the silent dead;
Hunger and cold, and scorn and pain,
Had wasted his form and seared his brain,
Till at last on a bed of frozen ground,
With a pillow of stone, was the Outcast found.

Found dead! dead and alone.
On a pillow of stone in the roofless street;
Nobody heard his last faint moan,
Or knew when his sad heart ceased to beat;
No mourner lingered with tears or sighs,
But the stars looked down with pitying eyes,
And the chill winds passed with a wailing sound
O'er the lonely spot where his form was found.

Found dead! yet not alone;
There was somebody near, — somebody near
To claim the wanderer as his own,
And find a home for the homeless here;
One, when every human door
Is closed to his children, scorned and poor,
Who opens the heavenly portal wide;
Ah, God was near when the Outcast died.