HARK ! " Nobody cares for us old folks." The wind s turning eastward, I know, Else dear little Grandmother Berry
Would never be murmuring so, Or put a small end of her cap-string
Right into a gathering tear, Or choke out a tremulous answer,
"There s nothing the matter, my dear."
She s feeling quite pitiful somehow,
Neglected and lonesome, dear heart ! Maybe we forget years are wedging
The young and the old folks apart. Perhaps in this busy existence
We do not remember to say The small loving words in the household,
To brighten for some one the day.
But see ! there is wee baby-lassie
Stretching out eager arms with a cry, And straightway, mid loving caresses,
That cap-string comes out of the eye ; The wind shifts due west in a hurry
When "Bessie loves dan-ma" is said, And I fancy Love shines like a glor/
Around Bessie s close-nestled head.
O babies ! with fingers like rose-leaves To touch wounded spirits so near,