I little dreamed that morn as you went walking
Adown the path to school on your first day;
A little lad with half a fear of something;
A little lad who knew not what to say.
Your little suit of courage decked with grandeur,
And splendor stood beside you, yet alone,
A little lad with half a fear of something,
That Fate could hardly wait to guide you on.
I could not know that Time was a daily calling,
That strangest notes of glory filled the air,
Enveloping in uniforms of Splendor,
Dear you, my little lad, with tousled hair.
I little dreamed that day a cloak of glory
Was wrapping you in folds I could not see--
A country's call--a county's laurels--
No dream--but Immortality.
V.C.
My Aunt Virginia was a teacher and a poet. Sadly, a number of her poems were on tissues and paper bags or whatever she could find when she had the urge to write and many are lost forever. She would wake up in the middle of the night with a poem screaming to be released. Where ever she was, if the urge struck, she had to write. Many were published but most weren't. I hope to rectify that here. All copyright to these poems belongs to me now. She is second from the left in the photo above.
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