I hold full sweet your memory,

My childhood days, so glad, so free.

To keep my innocence, dear Lord, for Thee,

Thy Love came to me night and day,

Alway.

I loved the swallows' graceful flight,

The turtle doves' low chant at night,

The pleasant sound of insects gay and bright,

The grassy vale where doth belong

Their song.

I loved the glow-worm on the sod;

The countless stars, so near to God,

But most I loved, in all the sky abroad,

The shining moon of silver bright,

At night.

The grass is withered in its bed;

The flowers within my hands are dead.

Would that my weary feet, Jesu! might tread

Thy Heavenly Fields, and I might be

With Thee!

My rainbow in the rain-washed skies—

Horizon where my suns arise—

My isle in far-off seas—pearl I most prize—

Sweet spring and butterflies—I see

In Thee!

In Thee I have the springs, the rills,

The mignonette, the daffodils,

The Eglantine, the harebell on the hills,

The trembling poplar, sighing low

And slow.

The lovely lake, the valley fair

And lonely in the lambent air,

The ocean touched with silver everywhere—

In Thee their treasures, all combined,

I find.

I go to chant, with Angel-throngs,

The homage that to Thee belongs.

Soon let me fly away, to join their songs!

Oh, let me die of love, I pray,

One day!

I hear, e'en I, Thy last and least,

The music from Thy Heavenly Feast;

There, deign receive me as Thy loving guest

And, to my harp, let me but sing,

My King!

Unto the Saints I shall be near,

To Mary, and those once treasured here.

Life is all past, and dried is every tear;

To me my home again is given—

In Heaven.

April 28, 1895.