And then she lost her robin;
Ah, that was sorrow dire!
He hopped along, and—bob in—
Hopped bob into the fire!
And once she lost a kiss
As she came down the stair;
But that she did not miss,
For sure it was somewhere!
Just then she lost her heart too,
But did so well without it
She took that in good part too,
And said—not much about it.
But when she lost her health
She did feel rather poor,
Till in came loads of wealth
By quite another door!
And soon she lost a dimple
That was upon her cheek,
But that was very simple—
She was so thin and weak!
And then she lost her mother,
And thought that she was dead;
Sure there was not another
On whom to lay her head!
And then she lost her self—
But that she threw away;
And God upon his shelf
It carefully did lay.
And then she lost her sight,
And lost all hope to find it;
But a fountain-well of light
Came flashing up behind it.
At last she lost the world:
In a black and stormy wind
Away from her it whirled—
But the loss how could she mind?
For with it she lost her losses,
Her aching and her weeping,
Her pains and griefs and crosses,
And all things not worth keeping;