With the sense or the sight of a child.

But the leaves persist as before, and after

Our parting the dull day still bears flowers;

And songs less bright than his laughter

Deride us from birds in the bowers.

Birds, and blossoms, and sunlight only,

As though such folly sufficed for spring!

As though the house were not lonely

For want of the child its king!

324 III

324

Asleep and afar to-night my darling

Lies, and heeds not the night,

If winds be stirring or storms be snarling;

For his sleep is its own sweet light.

I sit where he sat beside me quaffing

The wine of story and song

Poured forth of immortal cups, and laughing

When mirth in the draught grew strong.

I broke the gold of the words, to melt it

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