It was long, long ago that a soul like a flower Unfolded, and blossomed, and passed in an hour. It was long, long ago; and the memory seems Like the pleasures and sorrows that come in our dreams.
The kind years have crowned me with many a joy Since the going away of my wee little boy; Each one as it passed me has stooped with a kiss, And left some delight-knowing one thing I miss.
But when in the park or the street, all elate A baby I see in his carriage of state, As proud as a king, in his little go-cart- I feel all the mother-love stir in my heart!
And I seem to be back in that long-vanished May; And the baby, who came but to hurry away In the little white hearse, is not dead, but alive, And out in his little go-cart for a drive.
I whisper a prayer as he rides down the street, And my thoughts follow after him, tender and sweet; For I know, by a law that is vast and divine, (Though I know not his name) that the baby is mine!
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