Grandmamma sits in her quaint arm-chair—
Never was lady more sweet and fair!
Her gray locks ripple like silver shells,
And her brow its own calm story tells
Of a gentle life and a peaceful even,
A trust in God and a hope in heaven!
Little girl Mary sits rocking away
In her own low seat, like some winsome fay;
Two dolly babies her kisses share,
And another one lies by the side of her chair.
Mary is fair as the morning dew—
Cheeks of roses and ribbons of blue!
“Say, grandmamma,” says the pretty elf,
“Tell me a story about yourself.
When you were little, what did you play?
Was you good or naughty, the whole long day?
Was it hundreds and hundreds of years ago?
And what makes your soft hair as white as snow?
“Did you have a mamma to hug and kiss?
And a dolly like this, and this, and this?
Did you have a pussy like my little Kate?
Did you go to bed when the clock struck eight?
Did you have long curls and beads like mine?
And a new silk apron, with ribbons fine?”
Grandmamma smiled at the little maid,
And laying aside her knitting, she said:
“Go to my desk and a red box you’ll see;
Carefully lift it and bring it to me.”
So Mary put her dollies away and ran,
Saying, “I’ll be as careful as ever I can.”
Then grandmamma opened the box: and lo!
A beautiful child with a throat like snow,
Lips just tinted like pink shells rare,
Eyes of hazel and golden hair,
Hands all dimpled, and teeth like pearls—
Fairest and sweetest of little girls!
“Oh, who is it?” cried winsome May;
“How I wish she was here to-day!
Wouldn’t I love her like everything,
And give her my new carnelian ring!
Say, dear grandmamma, who can she be?”
“Darling,” said grandmamma, “that child was me!”
image an afternoon call on grandmother
May looked along at the dimpled grace,
And then at the saint-like, fair old face,
“How funny!” she cried, with a smile and a kiss,
“To have such a dear little grandma as this!
Still,” she added, with a smiling zest,
“I think, dear grandma, I like you best!”
So May climbed on the silken knee,
And grandma told her her history—
What plays she played, what toys she had,
How at times she was naughty, or good, or sad.
“But the best thing you did,” said May, “don’t you see?
Was to grow a beautiful grandma for me!”
