Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/124

Thou would mimic the cock crowing,
Cheerily in yonder room;
How thy voice thrilled through me glowing,
Gleam waking vaults of age-long gloom!
Heard from afar by me, as in a tomb
By bitter memory wrought,
And solitary thought,
Passion fraught!
There at morn thou and thy brother
Let your frolic fancies bubble,
Not for worlds your nurse or mother
Would have lived without their trouble!
In yon firwood I roved alone,
Hearing a dove's tender moan;
There he ever flew to meet me,
A very warbling rill he came,
I knew where he would run to greet me
Like a gentle gush of flame,
Where red squirrels leapt and twirled,
Or song's airy rillet purled
From birds in sun-illumined leaves,
Where young foliage gently heaves,
As delicate green tresses do
In clear pulses of sea-blue.

And there he lay upon my breast,
For he was very tired with play;
The sun was sinking in the west;