Our Wee White Rose

All in our marriage garden   Grew, smiling up to God, A bonnier flower than ever   Suckt the green warmth of the sod; O, beautiful unfathomably   Its little life unfurled; And crown of all things was our wee   White Rose of all the world. From out a balmy bosom   Our bud of beauty grew; It fed on smiles for sunshine,   On tears for daintier dew: Aye nestling warm and tenderly,   Our leaves of love were curled So close and close about our wee   White Rose of all the world. With mystical faint fragrance   Our house of life she filled; Revealed each hour some fairy tower   Where wingèd hopes might build! We saw—though none like us might see—   Such precious promise pearled Upon the petals of our wee   White Rose of all the world. But evermore the halo   Of angel-light increased, Like the mystery of moonlight   That folds some fairy feast. Snow-white, snow-soft, snow-silently   Our darling bud upcurled, And dropt i’ the grave—God’s lap—our wee   White Rose of all the world. Our Rose was but in blossom,   Our life was but in spring, When down the solemn midnight   We heard the spirits sing, “Another bud of infancy   With holy dews impearled!” And in their hands they bore our wee   White Rose of all the world. You scarce could think so small a thing   Could leave a loss so large; Her little light such shadow fling   From dawn to sunset’s marge. In other springs our life may be   In bannered bloom unfurled, But never, never match our wee   White Rose of all the world.