Explore "The Little Go-Cart" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was long, long ago that a soul like a flower / Unfolded, and blossomed, and passed in an hour. / It was long, long ago; and the memory seems / Like the pleasures and sorrows that come in our dreams.
The kind years have crowned me with many a joy / Since the going away of my wee little boy; / Each one as it passed me has stooped with a kiss, / And left some delight-knowing one thing I miss.
But when in the park or the street, all elate / A baby I see in his carriage of state, / As proud as a king, in his little go-cart- / I feel all the mother-love stir in my heart!
And I seem to be back in that long-vanished May; / And the baby, who came but to hurry away / In the little white hearse, is not dead, but alive, / And out in his little go-cart for a drive.
I whisper a prayer as he rides down the street, / And my thoughts follow after him, tender and sweet; / For I know, by a law that is vast and divine, / (Though I know not his name) that the baby is mine!