Chill as the holy water trickled down,
And, weeping, cast the window a strange look,
Half smile, half infant frown.
I scarce could hear
The larks a-singing in the green meadows,
'Twas summertide, and budding far and near
The hedges thick with rose.
And now you're grown
A little girl, and this same helpless mite
Is come like such another bud half-blown,