XXIX

You send me your love in a letter, I send you my love in a song: Ah child, your gift is the better, Mine does you but wrong.

No fame, were the best less brittle, No praise, were it wide as earth, Is worth so much as a little Child's love may be worth.

We see the children above us As they might angels above: Come back to us, child, if you love us, And bring us your love.