My childhood’s earliest thoughts are linked with thee;
The sight of thee calls back the robin’s song,
Who, from the dark old tree
Beside the door, sang clearly all day long,
And I, secure in [childish piety],
Listened as if I heard an angel sing
With news from heaven, which he could bring
Fresh every day to my [untainted ears],
When birds and flowers and I were happy peers.
How like a prodigal doth nature seem,