For oft I read within my nook 

 Such minstrel stories ; till the breeze 

 Made sounds poetic in the trees, — 

 And then I shut the book. 



If I shut this wherein I write 

 I hear no more the wind athwart 

 Those trees, — nor feel that childish heart 

 Delighting in delight. 



My childhood from my life is parted, 

 My footstep from the moss which drew 

 Its fairy circle round : anew 

 The garden is deserted. 



Another thrush may there rehearse 

 The madrigals which sweetest are ; 

 No more for me ! — myself afar 

 Do sing a sadder verse. 



Ah me, ah me ! when erst I lay 

 In that child's-nest so greenly wrought, 

 I laughed unto myself and thought 

 ' The time will pass away.' 



And still I laughed, and did not fear 

 But that, whene'er was past away 

 The childish time, some happier play 

 My womanhood would cheer. 



I knew the time would pass away, 

 And yet, beside the rose-tree waU, 

 Dear God, how seldom, if at all, 

 Did I look up to pray ! 

 66 



