The Child who Tarried Not
A bird of passage on the wing
You proved to us alone!
Where now, in their far wandering,
Have those light pinions flown?
And yet you filled all life with song.
For one too happy day!
Then over seas, where you belong,
You winged your lonely way!
How could we know, O Child, you stayed
A momentary guest,
Whose fond but fleeting presence made
These lonely walls their rest?
For, since you fared from us again
One note our Aprils lack.
One note, as year by year in vain
We watch the birds come back!
