FRIENDS

We are such friends, my little girl and I, That, though her summers number scarcely nine I need none other, as I go my ways With her small fingers closely clasping mine. A little world we two make of our own, And people it with all things fair and sweet; The stars that twinkle overhead at night Drop down at dawn in daisies at our feet. My smiles are hers;—my tears are all my own, I keep my sighs and give her all my song, Because she is so trusting and so weak I feel that I can suffer and be strong. The while I try to keep the narrow way, ’Tis wide enough for both. And my white dove, With untried wings, knows little love but this, That “Mother” is another name for “Love.”