Not for a trice feel a wayward twinge <br />for distant bells that hollow ring <br />familiar creak of the wooden loft <br />loving caress to a cheek so soft <br /> <br />so hold your child and merrily sing <br />to hug him dear and arms fling <br />savor the morning's early dew <br />tis the love that but earn a few <br /> <br />look the eye of your beaming beau <br />the glint therein that you watched grew <br />in your frock and braid and held flower <br />the sun the moon and shining star <br /> <br />the well worn stair, forward deck <br />wizened eye that seeks your beck <br />feline grace of your cat’s stretch <br />topped pail, in which you water fetch <br /> <br />sing and dance and take a step <br />to homely kitchen and roasting prep <br />tumblers stacked and the slanty mop <br />from window watch that ye often hop<br /><br />saadat tahir<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/distant-bells-1905-2k13/
