MOTHER DEAR IS GROWING OLD

New Zealand Tablet, 14 August 1913, Page 61

MOTHER DEAR IS GROWING OLD

When I note the gathering wrinkles^ And the hair so silvery white; Note the steps each year grow slower :: That were once so quiclc and light; Note the eyes a wee bit dimmer, And the carriage not so bold; Then I whisper, oh, so faintly, 'Mother, dear, is growing old.' Surely I must be mistaken, Note her nimble fingers fly; In and out her needles darting; Surely I've no heed to sigh. Hear her laugh so free and hearty— Makes you think of songs you've sung Full of trills and trills and high notes— Dear old Mother's growing young. Young or old it makes no difference, For we love her just the same, Mother —dear old Mother, Surely ne'er was sweeter name! As the days pass by so quickly May each one be brighter still May your heart grow ever younger As your life with love we fill.