As little girls, as human flowers, they shone and passed out of sight.
Only of one do I think differently, the most exquisite among them, the
most beautiful in body and soul, or so I imagine, perhaps because of
the manner of her vanishing even while my eyes were still on her. That
was Dolly, aged eight, and because her little life finished then she is
the one that never faded, never changed.
Here are some lines I wrote when grief at her going was still fresh.
They were in a monthly magazine at that time years ago, and were set to
music, although not very successfully, and I wish it could be done
again.
Should'st thou come to me again
From the sunshine and the rain,
With thy laughter sweet and free,
O how should I welcome thee!
Like a streamlet dark and cold
Kindled into fiery gold
By a sunbeam swift that cleaves
Downward through the curtained leaves;
So this darkened life of mine
Lit with sudden joy would shine,
And to greet thee I should start
With a great cry in my heart.
Back to drop again, the cry
On my trembling lips would die:
Thou would'st pass to be again
With the sunshine and the rain.
XXII
A LITTLE GIRL LOST
Yet once more, O ye little girls, I come to bid you a last good-bye - a
very last one this time.
