ON STINSFORD HILL
73
I called again: "Come nearer; much
That kind of note I need!"
The song kept softening, loudening on,
In placid calm unheed.
"What home is yours now?" then I said;
"You seem to have no care."
But the wild wavering tune went forth
As if I had not been there.
"This world is dark, and where you are,"
I said, "I cannot be!"
But still the happy one sang on,
And had no heed of me.
