I had two little babes, a boy and girl—

Two little babes that are not with me now:

On one bright brow full golden fell the curl—

The curl fell chestnut-brown on one bright brow.

I like to dream of them that some soft day,

Whilst wandering from home, their fitful feet

Went heedlessly through some still woodland way

Where light and shade harmoniously meet;

And that they wandered deeper and more deep

Into the forest's fragrant heart and fair,

Till just at evenfall they dropped asleep,

And ever since they have been resting there.

After their willful wandering that day

Each is so tired it does not wake at all,

Whilst over them the boughs that sigh and sway

Conspire to make perpetual evenfall.

And I, that must not join them, still am blest,

Passionately, though this poor heart grieves;

For memories, like birds, at my behest,

Have covered them with tender thoughts, like leaves.