A Valentine (1860)
I found and old, old, valentine
of my mother’s yesterday;
An age-stained, lacy, lovely thing
That she had put away
Between the covers of a book,
And as I touched it there,
I saw her young and beautiful
The sunlight on her hair,
The love-light in her dark, young eyes
That years could not destroy,
And through the paper lace there walked
My father as a boy.
Somewhere along the heavenly lanes
Today, their eyes ashine,
I think he asks her once again
To be his Valentine.
Grace Noll Crowell
No comments:
Post a Comment