How swiftly sped the hours in happy nights
When, after work, he rested there at home!
Such winning ways he had to lure my trust!
Such sweet pet names would call me, till I felt
So fondly small, he well might be my lord!
Would tease me so, anon to comfort me!
Or rouse my temper that he mild might seem;
Or tell such tales, that in my dreams I laugh’d
At wit reflecting, though distorting, his;
Or better still, would play for me,—such strains!
The very thought of them would seem like sleep,
While half the night I linger’d still awake,
Half-conscious of the call of early birds
And sparkling spray of light dash’d o’er the dews.