By Maryhale Woolsey
Great-grandmother dear is little and old,
The sun of her life in decline;
But her step is as springy and spry as can be,
And her motion’s as quick as mine.
Great-grandmother’s hair is snowy white,
And thin and short, I know;
But it likes to curl and kiss her face,
Just as it did long ago.
Great-grandmother’s cheek is wrinkled and pale –
The roses have faded away;
But the blue in her eyes, and the smile on her lips,
God put there, forever to stay.
Great-grandmother dear is eighty-eight–
So many summers she’s seen!
But she isn’t old – not great-grandmother dear! –
For her heart stays at sweet sixteen.