Page:Christabel, Kubla Khan, The Pains of Sleep - Coleridge (1816).djvu/59



A little child, a limber elf, Singing, dancing to itself, A fairy thing with red round cheeks That always finds, and never seeks, Makes such a vision to the sight As fills a father's eyes with light ; And pleasures flow in so thick and fast Upon his heart, that he at last Must needs express his love's excess With words of unmeant bitterness.