 | Teresa and Other Poems |  |
80
B. S. D.
Not dead; transplanted to a soil more light
By tenderer hands than ours,
Where never nipping frost or cankering blight
Profanes the flowers,
Your little darling blows, your mignonette,
In God's sequestered garden set.
By tenderer hands than ours,
Where never nipping frost or cankering blight
Profanes the flowers,
Your little darling blows, your mignonette,
In God's sequestered garden set.
Oh, sweeter such a loss than sad or strange!
Up-gathered from our gloom,
Earth's fading petals she doth there exchange
For deathless bloom,
And the salt rain from clouds of sorrow driven
For dew-drops on the lawn of heaven.
Up-gathered from our gloom,
Earth's fading petals she doth there exchange
For deathless bloom,
And the salt rain from clouds of sorrow driven
For dew-drops on the lawn of heaven.
| Teresa and Other Poems | |