Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/114



! the dear old moorland path, Consecrate by tiny feet! Every nook and corner hath A remembrance bitter-sweet. Three long years, all winter, scenes Afar have held me, many a care, But my heart for ever leans Here, until from otherwhere My feet are carried to the place Where dawned on me thy blessed face, The holy moor where Love was born, The moor where Love left me forlorn. There is night upon the moor, There is night upon my heart; A low moon consoles the moor, And his memory my heart. All is redolent of him; Here to us from heaven he came, Loosed here many a merry whim, Joy sparkling o'er the fountain brim