Classic Poem

Oh, lovely was our Rosalie
Unto her mother and to me;
Her gentle mother's image smiled
In Rosalie, our only child.

But gone is little Rosalie, —
Gone from her mother and from me;
An angel loved her when she smiled, —
Loved Rosalie, our only child.

Encradled like a tint of light
Within a dew-drop, frail and bright,
Was the sweet spirit, pure and mild,
Of Rosalie, our only child.

Oh, nevermore shall on my knee,
No, nevermore! sit Rosalie,
Who all our weary hours beguiled,
Sweet Rosalie, our only child.

Oh, nevermore in gentle rest,
A jewel on her mother's breast,
Where oft she hung in radiance mild,
Sweet Rosalie, our only child.

We feared to love our Rosalie, —
We feared lost we might childless be;
Yet loved her more, till love grew wild,
For Rosalie, our only child.

We knew she was not born for earth,
We thought so from her very birth;
But knew it when the angel smiled
On Rosalie, our only child.

The angel who hath loved her so,
And taken her from a world of woe,
Hath our own hearts to heaven beguiled,
With Rosalie, our only child.