The Book of the Bush by George Dunderdale (christmas read aloud .TXT) 📕

up his dark weatherbeaten face.

Then to my surprise he began to sing, and to sing well. His voice was strong, clear, and mellow, and its tones rose and fell in the silent night air with a pathetic and wonderful sweetness. The burden of his song was "We may be happy yet."

"Oh, smile as thou wert wont to smile, Before a weight of care Had crushed thine heart, and yet awhile Left only sorrow there; We may be happy yet."

He sang three stanzas, and was silent. Then someone said: "Poor old fellow; I hope he may be happy yet."

Next morning he was sitting with his back against the gum tree. His fire had gone out, and he seemed to be late in awaking, and in no hurry to resume his journey. But his travels were finished; he never awoke. His body was quite cold, and he must have died soon after he had sung the last note of his song. He had only sixpence in his pocket-the sixpence I had given him for his biography. The police took him in charge once more and put him in his last prison, where he will remain until we shall all be called together by the dread blast of the Archangel's trumpet on the Judgment Day.
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Publication Date: 05-21-2008

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Dedication:
Illustrator Macfarlane, J.