THE QUIET HOUSE by Alma Penderter Hayden

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Sep 24, 1896

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 22, No. 38.

THE QUIET HOUSE.

By Alma Penderter Hayden

O MOTHER, worn and weary With cares which never cease, With never time for pleasure, With days that have no peace, With little hands to hinder, And feeble steps to guard, With tasks that be unfinished, Deem not your lot too hard.

I know a house where childish things Are hidden out of sight— Where never sound of little feet Is heard from morn till night— No tiny hands that fast undo, That pull things all awry— No baby hurts to pity As the quiet days go by.

The house is all in order And free from tiresome noise— No moments of confusion— No scattered broken toys; And the children's little garments Are never soiled or torn, But are laid away forever Just as last they were worn.

And she, the sad-eyed mother, What would she give to-day, To feel your cares and burdens, To walk your weary way! Ah, happiest on all this earth Could she again but see The rooms all strewn with playthings And the children round her knee! —Alma Penderter Hayden.