A mothers memoirs
So, brief a time we have to stay
along this dear, familiar way;
It seems to me we should be kind
To those whose lives touch yours and mine.
The hands that serve us every day,
Should we not help them while we may?
They are so kind that none can guess
How soon the’ll cease our lives to bless.
The Hearts that love us, who many know
How soon the long, long way must go.
Then might we not their faults forgive
And make them happy while they live?
So many faults in life there are
We need not to go to seek them far;
But time is short and you and I
Might let the little faults go by.
And seek for what is true and fine
In those whose lives touch yours and mine;
This seems to me the better way
Then why not, friend, begin