I knew we should lose her. The dear Sacred Heart
Has a nook in earth’s desert for flowerets so rare;
And keeps them awhile in safe shelter, apart
From the wind and the rain, from the dust and the glare;
But all to transplant them when fairest they bloom,
When most we shall miss them. And this, that our love
May be haunted the more by the fadeless perfume
They have left us to breathe of the Eden above.
Farewell, happy maiden! Our weariest hours
May gather a share of thy perfect repose.