Poems (Howard)/Fannie
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.