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Charles Lamb - The Lame Brother
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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."
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