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THE GRANDMOTHER.
What care they that the winter-wind
Is driving over the heath,
With a sky of murky clouds above,
And the drifted snow beneath?
The day and its labour alike are done,
And the fire is burning bright;
And that old dame hath tale and song
Wherewith to while the night.
They are happy beside that lowly hearth;
For by her love to that child,
That aged woman, 'mid care and grief,
To existence is reconciled.
His father lived as a sailor lives,
To and fro on the stormy wave;
But the wind arose one fearful night,
And the sea was the tall ship's grave.
