Classic Poem

The one babe lost is the one babe left;
The others are grown and gone away.
So cruel it seemed when first bereft,
Yet the lost is the only one left to-day!

I watched them grow out of my longing arms,
While each in turn lost the baby face:
The years fled away with those winsome charms,
And manhood and womanhood took their place.

And now they've made them homes of their own,
While I by the fireside rock and dream:
And, oh, I should be so all alone,
Did not the past like the present seem!

But, while I am rocking, my babe again,
That I lost, far off in the dimming years,
I clasp with the joy that is kin to pain,
And water my dusty heart with tears.