Nature's Touch
In kindergarten classed
Dislike they knew;
And as the years went past
It grew and grew;
Until in maidenhood
Each sought a mate,
Then venom in their mood
Was almost hate.
The lure of love they learned
And they were wed;
Yet when they met each turned
Away a head;
Each went her waspish way
With muted damns—
Until they met one day
With baby prams.
Then lo! Away was swept
The scorn of years;
Hands clasped they almost wept
With gentle tears.
Forgetting hateful days,
All mother mild,
Each took with tender praise
The other’s child.
And now they talk of milk,
Of diapers and such;
Of baby bosoms silk
And tender to the touch.
A gemlike girl and boy,—
With hope unsaid,
Each thinks with mother joy:
‘May these two wed!’
Altre opere di Robert W. Service...
