Page:Songs of the Affections.pdf/263

Rh

Ye know not what ye do, That call the slumberer back, From the world unseen by you Unto life's dim faded track.

Her soul is far away, In her childhood's land, perchance, Where her young sisters play, Where shines her mother's glance.

Some old sweet native sound Her spirit haply weaves; A harmony profound Of woods with all their leaves;

A murmur of the sea, A laughing tone of streams:— Long may her sojourn be   In the music-land of dreams!