Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/162



O dove, sweet circling in the blue, Whom now a delicate cloud receives from view, A cool, soft, delicate cloud, we name dim Death! O pure white lamb-lily, inhaling breath From spiritual ether among bowers Of evergreen in the ever-living flowers, Yonder aloft upon the airy height, Mine eyes may scarce arrive at thy still light! Wandering ever higher, oh, farewell! Wilt thou the dear God tell We loved thee well, While He would lend thee? Why may we not follow? Do thou remember us in our dim hollow! Farewell, love! oh, farewell, farewell, farewell! We wave to thee, as when of old Thou waved, and we waved, heart of gold! Parting for a little while! And is all parting only for a while? O faint perfume from realms beyond the sky! Waft of a low celestial melody!