Silver and Gold by Ellis Gray

SILVER or golden, which is the best—
Which with God’s love is most richly blest?
Which is the fairer I cannot tell,
Grandfather dear or my baby Bel.

The soft twilight hour, when shadows fall,
To little Bel seems the best of all;
Then grandfather lays aside his book;
He cannot resist the pleading look.
There’s room for two in the great arm-chair;
His arms enfold her with loving care;
Upturned is a smiling, rosy face;
Two dimpled arms have found their place.
Sweet eyes of hazel, so clear and bright,
Look up with a happy, loving light;
The curls are golden that softly stray,
While breezes amid their sunshine play.
Little she dreams of sorrow and care;
Life is unknown, and to her seems fair.
As years roll by the face may grow old;
But the loving heart will never grow cold.

Bel and her grandfather sit together in the armchair

SILVER AND GOLD.

 When the hand of Time on her head is laid,
The lustre of gold must surely fade;
But lovely is even a silver frost,
If truth and goodness have not been lost.
Pride and passion have left no trace
On the old man’s placid, saintly face;
The journey so long is almost done—
The strife is over, the victory won.
The voice that speaks is gentle and deep;
Surely it means God’s grace to keep.
Eyes like the heavens so darkly blue;
Surely God’s love is shining through.
Forehead so noble, calm, and fair;
Surely God’s peace is resting there.
The snowy locks are a silver crown;
Softly the blessing of God came down.
Silver or golden, which is the best—
Which with God’s love is most richly blest?
Which is the fairer I cannot tell,
Grandfather dear or my baby Bel.