"The Dying Child's Request" (1851)
Ballad

Oh Mother in yon churchyard dread
Lay not your little one.

  "Mother, don't let them carry me away down to the
dark, cold chuch-yard, but bury me in the garden--
in the garden, mother!"

Sung by
Miss Miriam G. Goodman,
of the
Alleghanians
[Words -- anonymous]
Composed by
William H. Oakley.

New York: Firth, Pond & Co., 1 Franklin Sq.
Plate No. 1383
Engraver: Quidor
[Source: 1851-681130@LoC]

1. Oh, mother, in yon churchyard dread, 
Lay not your little one, 
Where marble tombstones o’er the dead, 
Are shining in the sun. 
I know, dear mother, I must die; 
But let me not go there. 
In that sad place I fear to die, 
It is too cold and drear.

2. In our sweeet garden I will rest, 
Beneath the orange tree, 
The mocking bird there builds her nest, 
And the will sing o’er me. 
The churchyard, mother, is so far, 
So far from you and home. 
It looks so wild when evening’s star 
Hangs in heaven’s azure dome.

3. Then promises, mother, near to you 
My little grave shall be, 
Where hy acinth and heartsease blue, 
Grow by the orange tree. 
The child could speak no more;
When her last wish was told,
Death’s paleness spread her visage o’er,
Her lips grew white and cold.

4. Her narrow tomb, amidst the flowers,
Was in the garden made;
And oft that mother weeps for hours,
Beneath the orange shade.
And when those flowers bloom and blush,
With rich and varied dies,
She thinks and bids her sorrows hush—
“My flower blooms in the skies.”