Upon yon little blossom, then she shook,
And when it passed from sight her soul passed too.
I fear me much we blunder out God’s truths,
And mar His angels with our brutal laws,
And change His temple to a prison house.
She was a blossom, Peter, so like her mother,
I’ll bury her out there beside her babe,
And when the winds shake and the roses blow,
They’ll know each other as their angels know
Each other in Heaven. Would I were sleeping too!