Page:Enoch Arden, etc - Tennyson - 1864.djvu/140

xx.

Pattering over the boards, my Annie who left me at two,

Patter she goes, my own little Annie, an Annie like you:
Pattering over the boards, she comes and goes at her will,
While Harry is in the five-acre and Charlie ploughing the hill.

xxi.

And Harry and Charlie, I hear them too—they sing to their team:

Often they come to the door in a pleasant kind of a dream.
They come and sit by my chair, they hover about my bed—
I am not always certain if they be alive or dead.