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.