'Mongst roses in the sunset glow,
Ere the white arum's cup of snow
⁠Had closed.
Grandmother sat, content to see
The beauty round her; or maybe
⁠She calmly dozed.

She, with grandchildren round her path,
Finding in life sweet aftermath,
⁠Grew young;
Old voices surged upon the breeze,
That over days remote from these
⁠A spell had hung.

Whilst golden sunbeams danced in space.
Calling up many a sunny place
⁠Of old;
Or here and there a cloudy blot.
That blurred the skies, of darkened spot
⁠In memory told.

Yet dark and light so blent that they
Made picture fair of summer day;
⁠Nor woke
The shadows aught that grief might bring,
For Time smoothed o'er with gentle wing
⁠Each harsher stroke.

The past's wild sobs were hushed, for age
Clear read God's writing on the page
⁠Once dim;
And earth's declining days waxed pale
In the light shining through the veil
⁠That hides from Him.

In a fair border-land she seems;
Behind, before, a world of dreams
⁠All peace;
And doubts that had perplexed her youth
Had settled into simple truth
⁠And fear's surcease.

Maude waiting wonders. In her eyes
To age a time of darkened skies
⁠Is given.
Strained silver cord, and hushed life-song -
"Ay, Maude, but chant of angel-throng
⁠Is nigh — in heaven."