Forward and back in her silken dress,
With its falling ruffles of frost-like lace,
A look of the deepest tenderness
In the faded lines of her fine old face.[[1]]
Warm on her breast, in his red night-gown,
Like a scarlet lily, the baby lies,
While softly the weary lids creep down
Over the little sleepy eyes.
Grandmother sings to him sweet and low,
And memories come with the cradle song