When you look at his picture and your eyes
Are dimmed and mighty wet,
And it seems as though your trembling hands
Could reach and touch him yet:
When you faintly call and he answers not
Your supplicating prayer,
Remember his last thought was You:
I know — for I was there.
When the day is done and the hearth-fire glows,
And you slowly knit and knit;
And your furtive eyes from the embers rise
To where he used to sit:
And you feel he never can slip up
And kiss you unaware,
Remember his last word was You:
I know — for I was there.
When your dear brave heart is breaking —
And life is‘ reft of joy;
And only the spark of memory —
The face of a boy — your boy:
May the good God hover over you,
And touch your silvered hair,
And tell you what I've tried to tell:
He knows — for He was there.