Here she walked and romped about, <br /> And here beneath this apple tree <br />Where all the grass is trampled out <br /> The swing she loved so used to be. <br />This path is but a path to you, <br /> Because my child you never knew. <br /> <br />'Twas here she used to stoop to smell <br /> The first bright daffodil of spring; <br />'Twas here she often tripped and fell <br /> And here she heard the robins sing. <br />You'd call this but a common place, <br /> But you have never seen her face. <br /> <br />And it was here we used to meet. <br /> How beautiful a spot is this, <br />To which she gayly raced to greet <br /> Her daddy with his evening kiss! <br />You see here nothing grand or fine, <br /> But, Oh, what memories are mine! <br /> <br />The people pass from day to day <br /> And never turn their heads to see <br />The many charms along the way <br /> That mean so very much to me. <br />For all things here are speaking of <br /> The babe that once was mine to love.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-beauty-places/
