Classic Poem

Where green is all the common hue
Of leaves, there seldom comes to light
A greenness for the blossoms too;
But they are blue, or red, or white.

With my dear child's last dress of green,
Her face of blushing white was seen;
The while her hair hung freely down
In waving locks of golden brown.

The chesnut leaves die off to red,
And maple leaves in yellow die;
And holly leaves in brown lie dead,
And bramble, brown and gray, will die.

But she lay dead as white's a sheet;
She lay as white as flour of wheat;
And she was folded all in white,
To rise an angel ever bright.