And dreaming, and sighing, and waiting the tide.
In life’s earnest battle, they only prevail
Who daily march onward, and never say fail.
There’s a rogue at play in my sunlit room,
And scarcely he rests from fun;
Floor, window, shelf, or closet’s gloom
All are to him as one.
He opens the books and peeps within,
The paper turns inside out,
Snatches my thread, and thinks no sin