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."