Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There

    • Child of the pure unclouded brow
    • And dreaming eyes of wonder!
    • Though time be fleet, and I and thou
    • Are half a life asunder,
    • Thy loving smile will surely hail
    • The love-gift of a fairy-tale.
    • I have not seen thy sunny face,
    • Nor heard thy silver laughter:
    • No thought of me shall find a place
    • In thy young life’s hereafter—
    • Enough that now thou wilt not fail
    • To listen to my fairy-tale.
    • A tale begun in other days,
    • When summer suns were glowing—
    • A simple chime, that served in time
    • The rhythm of our rowing—
    • Whose echoes live in memory yet,
    • Though envious years would say “forget”.
    • Come, hearken then, ere voice of dread,
    • With bitter tidings laden,
    • Shall summon to unwelcome bed
    • A melancholy maiden!
    • We are but older children, dear,
    • Who fret to find our bedtime near.
    • Without, the frost, the blinding snow,
    • The storm-wind’s moody madness—
    • Within, the firelight’s ruddy glow,
    • And childhood’s nest of gladness.
    • The magic words shall hold thee fast:
    • Thou shalt not heed the raving blast.
    • And, though the shadow of a sigh
    • May tremble through the story,
    • For “happy summer days” gone by,
    • And vanish’d summer glory—
    • It shall not touch with breath of bale,
    • The pleasance of our fairy-tale.