The Little Go-Cart

It was long, long ago that a soul like a flower     Unfolded, and blossomed, and passed in an hour.     It was long, long ago; and the memory seems     Like the pleasures and sorrows that come in our dreams.     The kind years have crowned me with many a joy     Since the going away of my wee little boy;     Each one as it passed me has stooped with a kiss,     And left some delight - knowing one thing I miss.     But when in the park or the street, all elate     A baby I see in his carriage of state,     As proud as a king, in his little go-cart -     I feel all the mother-love stir in my heart!     And I seem to be back in that long-vanished May;     And the baby, who came but to hurry away     In the little white hearse, is not dead, but alive,     And out in his little go-cart for a drive.     I whisper a prayer as he rides down the street,     And my thoughts follow after him, tender and sweet;     For I know, by a law that is vast and divine,     (Though I know not his name) that the baby is mine!