We are bereft! O, lovely and beloved!
God's angel was so swift we could not see
His falling shadow on thy smiling face,
Till from Love's clasping arms he lifted thee!
Can this be thee, in this white hush of flowers,
With greeting silence, as we weeping gaze?
Are these the cordial hands we held in ours —
Dear busy hands, that worked all kindly ways?
We stand without. The door hath closed behind thee
Into our Father's mansion, large and fair.
Enter, brave heart, serene, unselfish spirit;
Grief is for us, but rapture waits thee there.