Classic Poem

We got our mother in the mood
Last May to wear her silken hood,
And hoarded scarf that once behung
Her handsome neck, when she was young;
And gaudy gown, that she had drawn
With girlish footsteps o'er the lawn;
And as we scann'd the scarf, in place
Of scanty fringes, trimm'd with lace,
And saw the flaring gown, that flew
So flaunting in the air, we two
Cried " Mother, how could maidens go
Among their neighbours such a show?
You must have rack'd your minds enough
To make yourselves such ugly stuff!"
And then our mother mildly smiled
And made Jane answer, " Ah, my child,
When first, with lightsome limbs, I threw
This lace-trimm'd scarf upon me new,
Its make was by your father more
Admired than any that I wore,
And made him fancy he should find
No fashion else so take his mind.
And you upon its lace once lean'd
Your little nodding head, unwean'd,
In light robes hanging loosely down
All lily-white before this gown,
When hopeful, round the hallow'd stone,
We had you made your Saviour's own;
Ere on your wordless life but one
Yet waning moon had ever shone.
And this scarf flutter'd in the flight
Of flitting winds, in summer light,
When my young ringlets raven-black
Would reach half down my upright back,
And my quick eyes glanced proudly o'er
Dear objects I shall see no more."
And so our louder laugh, the while
We listen'd, ended in a smile,
To hear how warm her feelings woke
To words to hear the words we spoke.