Poems (Howard)/Fannie

by Hattie Howard

Fannie.

We dressed her in her bridal robes
 Of filmy texture rare,
And orange blossoms gaily twined
 Amid her shining hair;
As in the joy of festal hours,
 Serene with hope and pride,
We sent her forth in life's sweet morn,
 A loved and happy bride.

A few short months, there came a day
 When up the village street
A strange procession wound its way,
 And hearts in sadness beat;
For Fannie dear came back to us
 By floral offerings hid,
In wedding garments, as before,
 But 'neath her coffin lid.

"There is a Reaper," sang the choir,
 "Whose name is Death." How clear
Rang out the hymn, in solemn chant,
 Above her snow-white bier!
And Bible words were read about
 The New Jerusalem,
Where God transplants our fairest flower!
 As He hath need of them.

A sadder welcome ne'er was given
 To one whose merry voice,
As though it were but yesterday,
 Made all our hearts rejoice.
A grave upon the sunny hill,
 A dear, familiar spot,
Received the form that once was full
 Of life, and love, and thought.

It seems as though a bird had flown,
 And its forsaken nest
Is that sad home, so brief a time
 By her sweet presence blest;
But, sorrow-stricken and bereft,
 To Heaven we raise our eyes,
Where she, with angel plumage on,
 Now sings in Paradise.