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Sara Teasdale

To Rose

Rose, when I remember you,

Little lady, scarcely two,

I am suddenly aware

Of the angels in the air.

All your softly gracious ways

Make an island in my days

Where my thoughts fly back to be

Sheltered from too strong a sea.

All your luminous delight

Shines before me in the night

When I grope for sleep and find

Only shadows in my mind.

Rose, when I remember you,

White and glowing, pink and new,

With so swift a sense of fun

Altho' life has just begun;

With so sure a pride of place

In your very infant face,

I should like to make a prayer

To the angels in the air:

"If an angel ever brings

Me a baby in her wings,

Please be certain that it grows

Very, very much like Rose."