grandmother is very old , her face is wrinkled , and her hair is quite white ; but her eyes are like two stars , and they have a mild , gentle expression in them when they look at you , which does you good . she wears a dress of heavy , rich silk , with large flowers worked on it ; and it rustles when she moves . and then she can tell the most wonderful stories . grandmother knows a great deal , for she was alive before father and mother -- that 's quite certain . she has a hymn - book with large silver clasps , in which she often reads ; and in the book , between the leaves , lies a rose , quite flat and dry ; it is not so pretty as the roses which are standing in the glass , and yet she smiles at it most pleasantly , and tears even come into her eyes . " i wonder why grandmother looks at the withered flower in the old book that way ? do you know ? " why , when grandmother 's tears fall upon the rose , and she is looking at it , the rose revives , and fills the room with its fragrance ; the walls vanish as in a mist , and all around her is the glorious green wood , where in summer the sunlight streams through thick foliage ; and grandmother , why she is young again , a charming maiden , fresh as a rose , with round , rosy cheeks , fair , bright ringlets , and a figure pretty and graceful ; but the eyes , those mild , saintly eyes , are the same,--they have been left to grandmother . at her side sits a young man , tall and strong ; he gives her a rose and she smiles . grandmother can not smile like that now . yes , she is smiling at the memory of that day , and many thoughts and recollections of the past ; but the handsome young man is gone , and the rose has withered in the old book , and grandmother is sitting there , again an old woman , looking down upon the withered rose in the book . the moon shone down upon the grave , but the dead was not there ; every child could go safely , even at night , and pluck a rose from the tree by the churchyard wall . the dead know more than we do who are living . they know what a terror would come upon us if such a strange thing were to happen , as the appearance of a dead person among us . they are better off than we are ; the dead return no more . the earth has been heaped on the coffin , and it is earth only that lies within it . the leaves of the hymn - book are dust ; and the rose , with all its recollections , has crumbled to dust also . but over the grave fresh roses bloom , the nightingale sings , and the organ sounds and there still lives a remembrance of old grandmother , with the loving , gentle eyes that always looked young . eyes can never die . ours will once again behold dear grandmother , young and beautiful as when , for the first time , she kissed the fresh , red rose , that is now dust in the grave . 
her gentle eyes .
what will the kids remember about their grandmother ?
what will the kids remember about their grandmother ?