Little fragile, bonnie flower,
Meet to grace a fairy bower;
Ray of sunlight, that had come
To give gladness in thine home;—
Quenched is now thy rosy light
'Mid the shadows of the night,
Oh, the wealth of tender joy
Lost with thee, fair baby boy.

Golden locks and sunny smiles,
Rosy cheeks and baby wiles,
Pattering feet that ne'er would rest,
Waking joy in every breast;
Lisping words, that to our ears
Seemed like music from the spheres.
All are vanished—all are hid
'Neath the joyless coffin lid.

Beautiful in death wert thou,
With thy pure-white parian brow,
And a smile upon thy lip
As if dreaming in thy sleep.
Like the snowdrops pale, that lie
On thy little breast to die,
Thou didst sweetly bloom thine hour,
Bonnie fragile little flower.

High upon the crystal sea,
Clothed in immortality,
Where the tender Shepherd leads
All His lambs to all their needs;
Among flowers that never fade,
Where the tree of life gives shade;—
There again, in purest joy,
May we meet thee, baby boy.