THE TWO GOWNS

My mother has a pretty dress Of silk that’s rich and fine. She wears it when there’s company And when she’s out to dine; The collar has a velvet bow Below my mother’s face; The skirt trails softly on the floor, The sleeves are trimmed with lace; It shines and shimmers in the light All changing, gold and green, I smile at her, and whisper low, “My mother is a queen!” My mother has another dress Of cloth that’s soft and red. She wears it when the light is low, When I am going to bed; And after I have said my prayers And when I say good-night, I’m not afraid of hurting it— I hug up to it tight, And say, with arms ’round mother’s neck, “Oh, have you ever guessed That though your silken gown is fine I like this dress the best?”