O LITTLEST HANDS AND DEAREST

By Norah Mary Holland

O littlest hands and dearest,

O golden heads and bright,

From out what dear dream country

Come you to me to-night?

For through the shadows falling

I hear your voices calling

Out of the magic spaces

Of infinite delight.

I see your curls a-glimmer,

I see your dear eyes shine,

I feel the childish fingers

Slipped softly into mine;

You bring me back the May-time,

The old, delightful play-time

When all the world was laughter

And life seemed half divine.

Thus, from the shades that gather

Around my path to-night

Your glad child-hands have drawn me

Back to your lands of light,

Giving me for my sadness

The medicine of your gladness,

O littlest hands and dearest,

O golden heads and bright.