The Mother

 Your children grow from you apart,
 Afar and still afar;
And yet it should rejoice your heart
 To see how glad they are;
In school and sport, in work and play,
 And last, in wedded bliss
How others claim with joy to-day
 The lips you used to kiss.


Your children distant will become,
 And wide the gulf will grow;
The lips of loving will be dumb,
 The trust you used to know
Will in another's heart repose,
 Another's voice will cheer .
 .
 .

And you will fondle baby clothes
 And brush away a tear.


But though you are estranged almost, 
 And often lost to view,
How you will see a little ghost
 Who ran to cling to you!
Yet maybe children's children will
 Caress you with a smile .
 .
 .

Grandmother love will bless you still,--
 Well, just a little while.

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