Mother throws one downward to her Golden-hair;
Girlie cries, “They’re meeting, mother, in the air.”
By-and-by the girlie stands all, all alone,
Looking sadly upward for the mother, gone
Up the heavenly stairway. Girlie, standing here,
Knows the mother surely surely must be near.
If she throws her kisses up the golden stair,
Will they meet the mother’s half-way in the air?
Minnie Slade.
