Telling how, as one night I sat writing,
A fairy broke in on my dream.
A little inquisitive fairy
My own little girl, with the gold
Of the sun in her hair, and the dewy
Blue eyes of the fairies of old.
’Twas the dear little girl that I scolded—
“For was it a moment like this,”
I said, when she knew I was busy,
“To come romping in for a kiss?