EROTION AND THE DOVE.
Reading edition
I was too young, they said (I was not seven), But I would understand, as I grew older, Why the White Dove that died was not in heaven. But they were wrong, for when I came to heaven,— When first I came, and all was strange and lonely, My pretty pet flew straight upon my shoulder! And there she stays all day; at evening only, Between my hands, close to my breast, I fold her.