The picture has changed, Grandma now is a bride,
The choice of her heart proudly stands at her side;
She is living again the sweet life of those days
When she first knew a husband's devotion and praise.

To the faded old cheek springs again the warm blush,
The old years are young with the spring-time's soft flush,
The dear, dim blue eyes borrow youth's ardent glow,
As fast thro' her brain old-time memories flow. But ah! a light footstep within the lone room
Hath scattered the dream; loving eyes pierce the gloom,
A lithesome young figure at Grandma's side kneels,
A firm youthful hand into Grandma's hand steals. "Ah, Grandma, my Grandma, the smile on your face
Is proof that some pleasure has there left its trace;
Now, what were your thoughts? for I know they were far
Away from the Present, as earth from yon star? "My baby is sleeping, I've nothing to do,
Let me sit in the gloaming, dear granny, with you;
The clock will soon ring us the hour of nine,
Please talk to me, Grandma, of dear auld lang syne."

On the sunny young head Grandma's aged hand lies,
As she meets with her own the young mother's blue eyes,
For dear to her soul is this grandchild so fair,
Who has borrowed her youth in her soft eyes and hair. "Ah, child, down the vista of 'dear auld lang syne,'
Full soon will the torches of memory shine
For you, tho' life's summer seems scarcely begun,
And your head is yet golden 'neath morn's golden sun. "For Time flies so fast; listen, dearie, I, too,
Feel that Summer again. A young mother like you,
I am holding my baby all close to my breast,
And with the old lullaby lull her to rest. "I can feel once again, as I rock to and fro,
The weight of the dear little head. Soft and low
Is the little one's breath on the cheek which I press
'Gainst her sweet baby-lips in a loving caress— "As I sing o'er and o'er the quaint lullaby song
(That will never grow wearisome tho' life be long),
And watch the sweet drowsiness creeping apace,
Till sleep holds the wee one in tender embrace.

"Soft and low is the little one's breath
While yet I am crooning so softly and low—