The Girl He Left Behind

We used to think her frivolous—you know how parents are,

A little quick to see the faults and petty flaws that mar

The girl their son is fond of and may choose to make his wife,

A little overjealous of the one who’d share his life;

But the girl he left behind him when he bravely marched away

Has blossomed into beauty that we see and need to-day.

She was with us at the depot, and we turned our backs a-while,

And her eyes were sad and misty, though she tried her best to smile.

Then she put her arm round mother, and it seemed to me as though

They just grew to love each other, for they shared a common woe.

Now she often comes to see us, and it seems to me we find

A heap of solid comfort in the girl he left behind.

“She’s so sensible and gentle,” mother said last night to me,

“The kind of girl I’ve often wished and prayed his wife would be.

And I like to have her near us, for she understands my sighs

And I see my brave boy smiling when I look into her eyes.”

Now the presence of his sweetheart seems to fill our home with joy.

She’s no longer young and flighty—she’s the girl who loves our boy.