THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS
Child of the pure unclouded brow
And dreaming eyes of wonder!
Though time be fleet, and I and thou
Are half a life asunder,
Thy loving smile will surely hail
The love-gift of a fairy-tale.
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I have not seen thy sunny face,
Nor heard thy silver laughter:
No thought of me shall find a place
In thy young life’s hereafter-
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Enough that now thou wilt not fail
To listen to my fairy-tale.
A tale begun in other days,
When summer suns were glowing-
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A simple chime, that served to time
The rhythm of our rowing-
Whose echoes live in memory yet,
Though envious years would say ’forget.’
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Come, hearken then, ere voice of dread,
With bitter tidings laden,
Shall summon to unwelcome bed
A melancholy maiden!
We are but order children, dear,
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Who fret to find our bedtime near.
Without, the frost, the blinding snow,
The storm-wind’s moody madness-
Within, the firelight’s ruddy glow,
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And childhood’s nest of gladness.
The magic words shall hold thee fast:
Thou shalt not heed the raving blast.
And, though the shadow of a sigh
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May tremble through the story,
For ’happy summer days’ gone by,
And vanish’d summer glory-
It shall not touch, with breath of bale,
The pleasance, of our fairy-tale.