long ago
Sat singing to _her_ in the firelight's glow--

[Illustration: tune in G major and words: By, by, O baby! baby by O!]

But childhood is merged into girlhood at last,
(The sweet years of "baby-life" vanish so fast!)
And Grandma's a maiden, so dainty and fair,
Of girlhood's bright visions content with her share.

How merrily now glide the hours away!
And yet, as comes oft on a fair Summer's day,
A cloud that o'ershadows its fairness, e'en so
To Grandma's girl-life now and then comes some woe

[Illustration]

To grieve and to wound it, and hide from blue eves
The still deeper blue of the beautiful skies;
And how many times, just for comfort and rest,
The young head is lain upon mother's dear breast!

And tho' she's no longer the "baby," yet see,
The mother's arms clasp her all pityingly,
And turning once more to the "lullaby--O!"
She sings to her girl all so sweetly and low,

The nursery melody known the world o'er,
As she soothes, pets and comforts the young heart so sore.
Yes, Grandma is only a young girl to-night,
As she muses alone in the dim firelight.

* * * * *

The picture has changed, Grandma now is a bride,
The choice of her heart proudly stands at her side;
She is living again the sweet life of those days
When she first knew a husband's devotion and praise.

[Illustration: Grandma now is a bride]

To the faded old cheek springs again the warm blush,
The old years are young with the spring-time's soft flush,
The dear, dim blue eyes borrow youth's ardent glow,
As fast thro' her brain old-time memories flow.

But ah! a light footstep within the lone room
Hath scattered the dream; loving eyes pierce the gloom,
A lithesome young figure at Grandma's side kneels,
A firm youthful hand into Grandma's hand steals.

"Ah, Grandma, my Grandma, the smile on your face
Is proof that some pleasure has there left its trace;
Now, what were your thoughts? for I know they were far
Away from the _Present_, as earth from yon star?

"My baby is sleeping, I've nothing to do,
Let me sit in the gloaming, dear granny, with you;
The clock will soon ring us the hour of nine,
Please talk to _me_, Grandma, of dear auld lang syne."

[Illustration]

On the sunny young head Grandma's aged hand lies,
As she meets with her own the young mother's blue eyes,
For dear to her soul is this grandchild so fair,
Who has borrowed _her_ youth in her soft eyes and hair.

"Ah, child, down t