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!