And little ones who smiled upon my knee
Now clap the dimpled hands that would caress me.
Oh! music sweeter than the sweetest chime
Of magic bells by fairies set a-swinging;
I am no pilgrim in a foreign clime,
With these blest visions ever round me clinging.
I hear a voice no melody can reach;
Dear lips, speak on in your accustomed measure,
And teach my heart what you so well can teach,
How only love is earth’s enduring pleasure.