Half listens, and hardly hears,

Though sweeter than joy-bells ringing

And brighter than joy's own tears;

The song that remembrance of pleasure

Begins, and forgetfulness ends

With a soft swift change in the measure

That rings in remembrance of friends

337 As the moon on the lake's face flashes,

337

So haply may gleam at whiles

A dream through the dear deep lashes

Whereunder a child's eye smiles,

And the least of us all that love him

May take for a moment part

With angels around and above him,

And I find place in his heart.

338 XII

338

Child, were you kinless and lonely—

Dear, were you kin to me—

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