Little Sister Rose-Marie, Will thy feet as willing-light Run through Paradise, I wonder, As they run the blue skies under, Willing feet, so airy-light? Little Sister Rose-Marie Will thy voice as bird-note clear Lift and ripple over Heaven As its mortal sound is given, Swift bird-voice, so young and clear? How God will be glad of thee, Little Sister Rose-Marie!
-Adelaide Crapsey
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