Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AN OLD PICTURE, by OLIVER MARBLE

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AN OLD PICTURE, by            
First Line: Through many a year a picture dear
Last Line: And I'm her little boy.
Subject(s): Mothers

THROUGH many a year a picture dear
Hung just above my bed;
It plainly showed a shady road
That, curving gently, led
Past shrub and tree, till I could see,
Beside a blossoming vine,
My mother stand, as once she stood
When she was young, and I was good,
In days all sun and shine.

I saw her there, so sweet and fair,
When I drove off to school;
I knew the bliss of her fond kiss
On that deep porch and cool;
And every night the blessed sight
Of her above my bed
Consoled me for the boyish woes
Of absence--comforted I rose
When my brief prayer was said,--

The little prayer she taught me there
As I knelt in the room
Beside her knee, while I could see
The twining vine in bloom;
And every night in that dim light
I clambered o'er my bed
To kiss the picture and kiss her,
As she'd kissed her small traveller
Leaving the old homestead.

The change and strife of later life,
The years that leave me gray.
Have taken, too, that pictured view;
But cannot take away
The memory so dear to me,
That fond and wistful joy:
There stands my home, and mother's there,
So young, so good, so sweet and fair,
And I'm her little boy.

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