Beside the garden gate
Had gone the way of all the earth
And met its kindly fate,
We chopped it down and sawed the trunk
And piled a mighty pyre
That kept the good old airtight hot
For many a winter fire,
And planted in its place a tree
That Mother, nothing daunted,
Had wished to see beside that gate,
The one she’d always wanted,
An Ox-heart cherry tree at last.
It blossomed white in May,—
But June time came, and Mother went
Along her shining way,
Year after year her cherry tree
Spread boughs above the gate,
Where little ones she never knew
Played early here and late,—
Young Charles & Freck & Little Bill
And John and Ab and Honey
And Luz and Nan and Little Sam
And Bob and Jane and Sonny.
One Day came Daddy with cement
And said, just speaking slow,
“We’ll lean a mark for years ahead
To see how much we grow.”
There underneath the cherry tree
Their hands laid imprints down,
While honey bees and holly hocks
All gaily “went to town.”
September came and back to school
The merry children went.
The hurricane blew down the tree,
But left the old cement.
Today I find the imprints still
Of Ab and Sam and Honey,
Of Charles & Freck & Little Bill
Of Nancy, Luz and Sonny.
Tonight I sit beside the fire
And watch in glowing ember
The cherry tree of other years
Bring back a “long remember.”
Tonight where are the little hands?
In other worlds, in other lands.
Oh Mother, on your shining way
Forgive our tears,
Forgive our fears.
In this new day
Oh, may we know
What you have learned so long ago,—
That love alone like little hands
Leaves imprints on the years.
A.F.H.
October 16, 1943
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