Poems (Ryan)/Grandma Ray

by Mary C. Ryan

GRANDMA RAY.

In a black dress and snowy cap,
  Sat Grandma Ray
In her arm-chair, to knit and nap
  One winter's day.
The children played around her there
  As they were wont to do;
Their fairy tales she did not hear,
  Nor see the falling snow.

The noisy group silent did grow,
  Tired of its play;
"Oh! come," said one,"let's crown the brow
  Of Grandma Ray."
With nimble fingers a fair wreath
  Was twined of evergreen,
And bright red berries, with a wealth
  Of gold and silver sheen.

They crowned the brow of Grandma Ray,
  In love and mirth,
Each little child happy and gay
  Seemed not of earth.
And when Grandma at last awoke,
  She gave to each a kiss,
And in her own kind way she spoke
  Of Heaven and its bliss.

In joy the angels came that night,
  And bore away
On snowy wings to realms of light
  Dear Grandma Ray.
The withered wreath in tears was bathed.
  But angels now will twine
One for Granny that ne'er will fade,
  In Heaven's light to shine.

Her tottering form so bent and old,
  Had reached time's goal;
Long waiting for the crown of gold,
  Her weary soul.
For many years the poor and sick
  Loved Grandma Ray,
And often had the great and rich
  Asked her for them to pray.

In earth was laid so tenderly,
  Her weary form;
A shattered bark had crossed life's sea,
  Through time's great storm.
At last in peace 'tis anchored now
  In haven of sweet rest,
Though Granny's dust lies 'neath the snow,
  Her soul's on Jesus' breast.