His ready smile, his ready kiss,
The patter of his little feet,
Sweet frowns and stammered phrases sweet;
And graver looks, serene and high,
A light of heaven in that young eye,
All these shall haunt us till the heart
Shall ache and ache—and tears will start.
The bow, the band shall fall to dust,
The mining arrows waste with rust,
And all of Love that earth can claim