Early Primrose.
There was a paly primrose,
Budding very early
In the little garden,
When he lay so ill.
"Do you think I may be
Well enough to go there
When the flower opens,
Papa?" he asked of me.
But only a day after
Our little Sunshine left us,
And the primrose opened
The very day he died.
I wonder if he saw it,
Saw the flower open,
Went to pay the visit
Yonder after all!
I know we laid the flower
On a stilly bosom
Of an ivory image;
But I want to know
If indeed he wandered
In the little garden,
Or noted on the bosom
Of his fading form
The paly primrose open;
How I want to know!