XXIX

You send me your love in a letter,

I send you my love in a song:

Ah child, your gift is the better,

Mine does you but wrong.

No fame, were the best less brittle,

No praise, were it wide as earth,

Is worth so much as a little

Child's love may be worth.

We see the children above us

As they might angels above:

Come back to us, child, if you love us,

And bring us your love.