Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/112

 Ah! now my fairy brook is dry; Where are the playful gleamings of his eye, Or songs of his sweet innocent revelry? But while I love the gentle woodland, And fragrant pines that stir and sing Hushfully in upland valleys, Blue lakes, and every living thing, I love the little human children Better than all woods and flowers, The music of their innocent gambols More than springs and summer showers. And my heart is never lonely If in roving I may meet A few little children only With their merrily flying feet, In the playfield fresh from school, Or among glades of woodland cool. They are fair meanings of the daylight, Clear fulfilment of meek flowers, All a shyly wandering faylight Would say among her leafy bowers. In their sweet, shy, sidelong glances, And every lisping word that wells, In their light aerial dances, As of wind-waved lily-bells … I think I hear his very tone, I feel his very living smile; Yea, one would say he lends his own