Child of the pure unclouded brow And dreaming eyes of wonder! Though time be fleet, and I and thou Are half a life asunder, Thy lowing smile will surely hail The love-gift of a fairy-tale
I have not seen thy sunny face Nor heard the silver laughter: No thought of me shall find a place In thy young life's hereafter- Enough that now thou wilt not fail To listen to my fairy-tale.
A tale begun in other days, When the summer suns were glowing- A simple chime, that served to time The rhyme of our rowing- Whose echoes live in memory yet, Though envious years would say "forget."
Come, hearken then, ere voice of dread, With bitter tidings laden, Shall summon to unwelcome bed A melancholy maiden! We are but older children, dear, Who fret to find out bedtime near.
Without, the frost, the blinding snow, The storm-wind's moody madness- Within, the firelight's ruddy glow And childhood's nest of gladness. The magic words shall hold thee fast: Thou shalt not heed the raving blast.
And, though the shadow of a sigh May tremble through the story, For "happy summer days" gone by, And vanish'd summer glory- It shall not touch, with breath of bale, The pleasance of our fairy-tale.
My name is Claire. I used to be cheerleader in Odessa, Texas, before my life changed. If you want to know more about me, a bio can be found here, or there's always Wikilinks. Or you could read my journal.