HOW steadfastly she worked at it! 
 How lovingly had drest 
With all her would-be-mother?s wit 
 That little rosy nest! 
 
How longingly she ?d hung on it!? 
 It sometimes seemed, she said, 
There lay beneath its coverlet 
 A little sleeping head. 
 
He came at last, the tiny guest, 
 Ere bleak December fled; 
That rosy nest he never prest? 
 Her coffin was his bed.