Ii

Once in my garret -- you being far away Tramping the hills and breathing upland air, Or so I fancied -- brooding in my chair, I watched the London sunshine feeble and grey Dapple my desk, too tired to labour more, When, looking up, I saw you standing there Although I'd caught no footstep on the stair, Like sudden April at my open door.

Though now beyond earth's farthest hills you fare, Song-crowned, immortal, sometimes it seems to me That, if I listen very quietly, Perhaps I'll hear a light foot on the stair And see you, standing with your angel air, Fresh from the uplands of eternity.