. To mother . Until at last you come thus, gypsy-wise,Into a garden which the Lord hath sown,And smiled upon, and cherished forHis own,— Lo, here that realm of Joy and Laugh-ter lies! O Mirth, are you forever beckningthere, Where Youth sits smiling neath hertangled hair?.

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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidtomother00co, bookyear1911