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.