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She was a girl of lovely air,
Crowned with a head of raven hair,
Eyes so blue and grace so gay
She never dreamed she'd go away.
Almost sweet sixteen and we'll ne'er forget
How she didn't e'en fus or fret
Her slow sweet smile was always there
To chase the gloom from everywhere.
God took her in a strange, strange way.
He needed her no doubt to stay
Among the angels bright and fair
To sweeten Heaven's pure, pure air.
-Constance Kaylor