Grandmither, Think not I Forget by Willa Cather

Grandmither, think not I forget, when I come back to town, / An' wander the old ways again an' tread them up an' down. / I never smell the clover bloom, nor see the swallows pass, / Without I mind how good ye were unto a little lass. / I never hear the winter rain a-pelting all night through, / Without I think and mind me of how cold it falls on you. / And if I come not often to your bed beneath the thyme, / Mayhap 't is that I'd change wi' ye, and gie my bed for thine, / Would like to sleep in thine.

I never hear the summer winds among the roses blow, / Without I wonder why it was ye loved the lassie so. / Ye gave me cakes and lollipops and pretty toys a score, -- / I never thought I should come back and ask ye now for more. / Grandmither, gie me your still, white hands, that lie upon your breast, / For mine do beat the dark all night and never find me rest; / They grope among the shadows an' they beat the cold black air, / They go seekin' in the darkness, an' they never find him there, / An' they never find him there.