  The night was still, No sounds could be heard, But soon came voices Sweet as a bird. I arose from my bed To find who it could be. ’Twas my deceased sisters, Mildred and Marie. Oh! how beautiful Was their golden wings, With music in their voices That the living can’t sing. They told of the heavens So sweetly to me, And tell mother you were visited By Mildred and Marie. |
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