Phantasmagoria And Other Poems

Inscribed to a dear Child:

in memory of golden summer hours

and whispers of a summer sea.

Girt with a boyish garb for boyish task,

   Eager she wields her spade: yet loves as well

Rest on the friendly knee, intent to ask

         The tale one loves to tell.

Rude scoffer of the seething outer strife,

   Unmeet to read her pure and simple spright,

Deem, if thou wilt, such hours a waste of life,

         Empty of all delight!

Chat on, sweet Maid, and rescue from annoy

   Hearts that by wiser talk are unbeguilded.

Ah, happy he who owns the tenderest joy,

         The heart-love of a child!

Away, fond thoughts, and vex my soul no more!

   Work claims my wakeful nights, my busy days,

Albeit bright memories of the sunlit shore

         Yet haunt my dreaming gaze.