I'd wash your clothes,~ I'd sew and cook,~ But when you'd bring your picture book ~ And ask me, please, to share your fun, ~ I'd say, "A little later, son."
I'd tuck you in all safe at night,~ And hear your prayers, turn out the light,~ Then tiptoe softly to the door. ~ I wish I'd stayed a minute more.
For life is short,~ and years rush past, ~ A little boy grows up so fast. ~ No longer is he at your side.~ His precious secrets to confide.
The picture books are put away,~ There are no children's games to play,~ No good night kiss, no prayers to hear.~ That all belongs to yesteryear.
My hands once busy, now lie still ~ The days are long and hard to fill. ~ I wish I might go back and do ~ The little things you asked me to.
So quiet down cobwebs *
Dust, go to sleep * I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.
For you to love while he lives, and mourn when he is dead.
It may be six or seven years or twenty-two or three,
But will you, till I call him back, take care of him for me?
He'll bring his charms to gladden you, and shall his stay be brief,
You'll have his lovely memories as solace for your grief.
I cannot promise he will stay, since all from earth return,
But there are lessons taught down there, I want this child to learn.
I've looked the wide world over in my search for teachers true,
And from the throngs that crowd life's lanes, I have selected you.
Now will you give him all your love, nor think the labor vain
Nor hate me when I come to call, to take him back again?
I fancied that I heard them say, 'Dear Lord, thy will be done.
For all the joy thy child shall bring, the risk of grief we'll run.
We'll shelter him with tenderness, we'll love him while we may;
And for the happiness we've known, we'll ever grateful stay.
But should the angels call for him, much sooner than we planned,
We'll brave the bitter grief that comes, and try to understand."
