Will it all seem an echo from childhood passed over—passed on?
Will the grave parson bless us? Hark, hark! in the dim failing light
I hear her! As then the child’s voice clear and high, sweet and merry
Now she mocks the man’s tone with “Hie over! Hie over the ferry!”
“And Katie.” “And Katie.” “Art out with the glowworms to-night,
My Katie?” “My Katie.” For gladness I break into laughter
And tears. Then it all comes again as from far-away years;
Again, some one else—Oh, how softly!—with laughter comes after,
Comes after—with laughter comes after.
Jean Ingelow.