Come hither, child

5Nay, chide not, lady; long ago

6I heard those notes in Ula's hall,

7And had I known they'd waken woe

8I'd weep their music to recall.

9But thus it was: one festal night

10When I was hardly six years old

11I stole away from crowds and light

12And sought a chamber dark and cold.

13I had no one to love me there,

14I knew no comrade and no friend;

15And so I went to sorrow where

16Heaven, only heaven saw me bend.

17Loud blew the wind; 'twas sad to stay

18From all that splendour barred away.

19I imaged in the lonely room

20A thousand forms of fearful gloom.

21And with my wet eyes raised on high

22I prayed to God that I might die.

23Suddenly in that silence drear

24A sound of music reached my ear,

25And then a note, I hear it yet,

26So full of soul, so deeply sweet,

27I thought that Gabriel's self had come

28To take me to thy father's home.

29Three times it rose, that seraph strain,

30Then died, nor breathed again;

31But still the words and still the tone

32Dwell round my heart when all alone.