Where I have lost, I softer tread

104 Where I have lost, I softer tread— I sow sweet flower from garden bed— I pause above that vanished head And mourn. Whom I have lost, I pious guard From accent harsh, or ruthless word— Feeling as if their pillow heard, Though stone! When I have lost, you'll know by this— A Bonnet black—A dusk surplice— A little tremor in my voice Like this! Why, I have lost, the people know Who dressed in flocks of purest snow Went home a century ago Next Bliss!