238
MY GALVESTON HOME.
With dark eyes bright and sparkling, And the sunlight in his hair.
And if my voice will falter, And the tears come to my eyes,When my other little children Whisper to me from the skies;If I sometimes feel the yearning For my little ones again,It is but the mother-longing That has scarce a touch of pain,—
Just a sigh from out the silence Of the unforgotten past,Like the sound of distant music Borne along upon the blast.For I feel that every sorrow My eventful life has known,Will be harvested in gladness For the tears that I have sown.
And I love my humble dwelling, With its zephyrs and its flowers,
