POETRY.
LINES
(FREELY ENLARGED FROM VICTOR HUGO).
LIKE a tiny glint of light piercing through the dusty gloom Comes her little laughing face through the shadows of my
MOM.
And my pen forgets its way as it bears her patt'ring tread, While her prattling treble tones chase the thoughts from out my head.
She is queen and I her slave, one who loves her and obeys, For she rules her world of home with imperious baby ways.
In she dances, calls me " Dear " turns the pages of my books, Thrones herself upon my knee, takes my pen with laughing looks, Makes disorder reign supreme, turns my papers upside down, Draws me cabalistic signs, safe from fear of any frown, Crumples all my verses up, pleased to hear the crackling sound, Makes them into balls and then—flings them all upon the ground.
Suddenly she flits away, leaving me alone again With a warmth about my heart, and a brighter, clearer brain.
And although the thoughts return that her coming drove away The remembrance of her laugh lingers with me through the day, And it chances, as I write, I may take a crumpled sheet, On the which, God knoweth why ! read my fancies twice
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