DOLLY’S GARDEN

This is Dolly’s garden, All her “very own,” Every flower that’s in it By her hand was sown— Never out of Eden Were such blossoms blown. Like her eyes those pansies, Deep and dark and blue— As her soul those lilies, Pure and white and true; Frail earth-flowers and fading— Dolly’s fading too. This was Dolly’s garden, Here I stand alone, Dolly’s tending blossoms Near the Great White Throne: Dolly now has heaven For her “very own.”