 | Short poems for short people |  |
REMEMBERING.
It seems very strange and lonely, Mamma,
Not to have Nellie here
In these happy mornings of May-time,
The brightest and best of the year!
Not to have Nellie here
In these happy mornings of May-time,
The brightest and best of the year!
She so loved the white of the orchards, Mamma,
The gold of the crocuses, too,
And the blue of the violets, colored
To match her own eyes' gentle blue.
The gold of the crocuses, too,
And the blue of the violets, colored
To match her own eyes' gentle blue.
And don't you remember last May-time, Mamma,
Her roguish, rare, merry delight
To find a bird's-nest in the lilacs,
With four cunning eggs, brown and white?
Her roguish, rare, merry delight
To find a bird's-nest in the lilacs,
With four cunning eggs, brown and white?
And then how the butterflies pleased her, Mamma!
She never would chase them, would Nell.
The largest and least of God's creatures
Our darling loved equally well!
She never would chase them, would Nell.
The largest and least of God's creatures
Our darling loved equally well!
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What melodies breathed in her laughter, Mamma,
What innocence dwelt on her face!
And though her form's grace was quite perfect,
Her soul had a lovelier grace!
What innocence dwelt on her face!
And though her form's grace was quite perfect,
Her soul had a lovelier grace!
I know she is happy in God's other world,
But ah, if he spared her in this
For just a sweet moment each morning—
The time that it takes for one kiss!
But ah, if he spared her in this
For just a sweet moment each morning—
The time that it takes for one kiss!
| Short poems for short people | |