Mothers

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The Mother

by Robert William Service

Your children grow from you apart,

Afar and still afar;

And yet it should rejoice your heart

To see how glad they are;

In school and sport, in work and play,

And last, in wedded bliss

How others claim with joy to-day

The lips you used to kiss.

Your children distant will become,

And wide the gulf will grow;

The lips of loving will be dumb,

The trust you used to know

Will in another's heart repose,

Another's voice will cheer . . .

And you will fondle baby clothes

And brush away a tear.

But though you are estranged almost,

And often lost to view,

How you will see a little ghost

Who ran to cling to you!

Yet maybe children's children will

Caress you with a smile . . .

Grandmother love will bless you still,--

Well, just a little while.