And I know that through the twilight and the shadows gathering fast
Came unto my grandsire, dreaming, the visions of the past.
The boys who played with him were there within that little room;
His mother’s smile no doubt lit up the darkness and the gloom;
Again he ran and leaped and played beside an Eastern stream;
The ones he loved were there, I know, when grandpa used to dream.
And so he smiled—and then she stood, his dearest, at his side,
With the glow of youth upon her, red-lipped and laughing eyed,
And he told the old, sweet story, and she listened, nothing loth,
And dreams of hope were written in the happy hearts of both;