" What art thou thinking of, " said the Mother,
" What art thou thinking of my child? "
" I was thinking of Heaven, " he answered her,
And looked up in her face and smiled.

" And what didst thou think of Heaven? " she said;
" Tell me, my little one! "
" Oh . . , I thought that there the flowers never fade,
That there never sets the sun. "

" And wouldst thou love to go thither, my child?
Thither wouldst thou love to go?
And leave the pretty flowers that wither,
And the sun that sets below? "

" Oh, I would be glad to go there, mother,
To go and live there now;
And I would pray for thy coming, mother,
My mother, wouldst not thou? "