Poems (Barker)/Our Angel Dora
Our Angel Dora.
Dora's sleeping in the valley, Where the shadows softly creep,And the gently drooping willows Bending o'er her sadly weep.There the wildest winds seem sighing For our gentle little flower,When her hopes on earth seemed brightest, Taken from us in an hour.
Gentle Dora, angel Dora, Dwelling up in Heaven now;Fairest of that happy number, Golden stars upon her brow.When "He maketh up His jewels" Surely Dora's Angel face'Mong that pure and sinless number Will be given the fairest place.
Though the casket slowly moulders In the valley's quiet shade,Dora's pure, untarnished spirit Never in the dust was laid.We are happy now in thinking That our darling's angel faceIn the summer land, called Heaven, Now has won a sinless place.
We are sad, how sad without her Passing through each silent room,Seeming in those few short hours Robbed of all their joy and bloom.In the garden, 'mong the flowers How we miss her lovely face,And our hearts grow sick and lonely As we see each sunny place,
Where our Dora's gentle presence. Once had made it doubly fair:But she roams among the flowers, In a garden over there,Dora sleeps within the valley, When the children come this wayWith their tender buds and blossoms, They will always cease their play.
Bending gently where she's sleeping, Tender, loving words are said;And we know our darling's blessing Falls upon each little head.Gentle Dora, angel Dora, All too fair for earth's dark night,Lovingly "Our Father" called her From the darkness into light.