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She came, a spirit fresh from God.
This tiny grave
Where in the spring the daisy blows,
Where in the winter drift the snows,
Was all earth gave.

 

A soul that God saw fit to send
Beneath the skies;
An angel that had earthward come;
She might have made some lonely home
A Paradise.

 

There were already eight to feed:
What room for this?
Yet dimpled limbs, and hair of gold,
And lips like rose-buds that unfold,
Were made to kiss.

 

Earth gave this nameless grave to one
Who faultless came.
There was no room below. In Heaven
God grant that unto such be given,
Love, home, a name.