GRANDMOTHER'S CHAIR.
Grandmother sits in her easy chair
Softly humming some old-time air;
And as she sings, her needles keep pace
With the smiles that flit o'er her wrinkled face;
While the fire-light flickers, and fades away,
And comes again like the breaking day.
From morning till evening she knits and sings,
While ever the pendulum tireless swings