To a Stillborn Sister

How do you mourn the death of one
Who never got to live,
When there's nothing to feel good about
And nothing to forgive?

I love you, little sister.
You're a person of the wind,
Free to be the memory
Of all that might have been.

I love you, little sister,
My companion of the night,
Wandering through my lonely hours,
Beautiful and bright.

What does it mean to die before
You ever can be born,
To live the lovely night of life
And never see the dawn?

Ah! My little sister,
You lived like anyone!
Life's a burst of joy and pain,
And then, like yours, it's done.

I love you, little sister,
Just as if you'd lived for years.
No more, no less, I think of you,
The angel of my tears.