Give me thy heart, O little child!
Just for one golden hour;
Thine eyes by passion undefiled,
Thy soft cheek's peachy dower.
Give me thy curls that float and fall
In tangles sweet and wild;
But more than all, oh, more than all,
Give me thy heart, O child!
O glad child’s heart!
Give me thy heart of careless sun,
And I will give to thee
My present schemes, my triumphs won,
My dreams that might not be,
My precious hoard of garnered thought
Piled in the fruitful years,
My worldly wisdom, dearly bought
With blood, and toil, and tears,
O glad child's heart!
He gives his curls a saucy shake
And blithely darts away;
Not all the promises I make
Will tempt the child to stay.
For if he lent for one sweet hour
That priceless boon I lack,
Full well he knows no earthly power
Could make me give it back —
O glad child's heart!
