The frost of age was on her brow, its dimness in her eye,
And her bent figure to and fro rocked all unconsciously.
The frost of age was on her brow, yet garrulous her tongue,
As she compared the “doings now,” with those when she was young.
“When I was young, young gals were meek, and looked round kind of shy;
And when they were compelled to speak, they did so modestly.
They stayed at home, and did the work; made Indian bread and wheaten;
And only went to singing-school, and sometimes to night meetin’.
And children were obedient then; they had no saucy airs;
And minded what their mothers said, and learned their hymns and prayers.