Easter Sunday

On Easter morn she kneels and prays,
A gentle saint in baby blue —
Forgive her that her hat is new,
And all those dear, coquettish ways.

Her loyal soul pure tribute pays
To that high throne where prayers are due,
At Easter, when she kneels and prays,
A gentle saint in baby blue.

So innocent her girlish days
She scarcely knows what sins to rue,
What pard'ning grace from Heaven to sue,
As, glad with morning's gladdest rays,
A gentle saint, she kneels and prays.
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