THE LITTLE GO-CART

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!