Love's Labour

The children have their rabbits, their kitten and their dog.
Oftentimes you’ll see them with a wriggling pollywog;
With a rod swung o’er a shoulder, a can of worms for bait,
Go trudging down a dusty road before the morn is late.
Now father has his garden, his paper and his pipe,
His easy chair, his slippers, his club and all that tripe;
He cottons to the garden fence where he and neighbor John
Discuss the stocks, the weather and the page the “Sports” are on.
Grandmother has her rocker in which to cull her dreams,
Her thinning hair all silvered, her face a smile of seams.
All her years of living are patterned on her brow-,
The setting sun before her and the dawn so distant now.
But mother, patient mother, with her minutes stretched and tried,
I wonder how she finds the time to look so satisfied.
When Heaven’s gates are opened, there must surely be a place
That is hallowed and exalted for the Mothers of our race.

– Circa 1924

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