I WILL come back and be a child,
And put away from me
The daring and the dancing wild,
The dreams that troubled thee.
I will come back and softer sing
And tell thee stories true,
And make thee many a lovely thing
From out our drouth and dew.
But when thou sleepest, I will run
And dance upon the sward,
And tell the moon how I have won
Thy praise for my reward;
And tell the moon how I must stay
A child, and dream no more
Such dreams as I have sought to say,
That tempted me so sore:
And tell the moon and tell the night
How I have put from me
All day — until the dim twilight —
The dreams that troubled thee!