Child of delight, with sun-bright hair,
⁠And sea-blue, sea-deep eyes!
Spirit of bliss! what brings thee here,
⁠Beneath these sullen skies?

Thou shouldst live in eternal spring,
⁠Where endless day is never dim;
Why, Seraph has thine erring wing
⁠Wafted thee down to weep with him?

'Ah! from heaven am I descended,
⁠Nor do I come to mingle tears;
But sweet is day, though with shadows blended;
⁠And, though clouded, sweet are youthful years.

'I—the image of light and gladness—
⁠Saw and pitied that mournful boy,
And I vowed—if need were—to share his sadness,
⁠And give to him my sunny joy.

'Heavy and dark the night is closing;
⁠Heavy and dark may its bidding be:
Better for all from grief reposing,
⁠And better for all who watch like me—