And the old house on the hill
No longer echoes to childish feet
And the yard is still, so still.
But I see it all, as the shadows creep,
And though many the years have been
Since then, I can hear mother ask,
"Are all the children in?"
I wonder if when the shadow fall
On the last short, earthly day,
When we shall say good-bye to the world outside,
All tired with our childish play,
When we step out into the Other land
Where mother so long has been,
Will we hear her ask, just as of old,
Are all the children in?"
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