Come Hither, Child, Who Gifted Thee With Power To Touch That String So Well? How Darest Thou Rouse Up Thoughts In Me, Thoughts That I Would, But Cannot Quell? Nay, Chide Not, Lady; Long Ago I Heard Those Notes In Ula'S Hall, And Had I Known They'd Waken Woe I'd Weep Their Music To Recall. But Thus It Was: One Festal Night When I Was Hardly Six Years Old I Stole Away From Crowds And Light And Sought A Chamber Dark And Cold. I Had No One To Love Me There, I Knew No Comrade And No Friend; And So I Went To Sorrow Where Heaven, Only Heaven Saw Me Bend. Loud Blew The Wind; 'Twas Sad To Stay From All That Splendour Barred Away. I Imaged In The Lonely Room A Thousand Forms Of Fearful Gloom. And With My Wet Eyes Raised On High I Prayed To God That I Might Die. Suddenly In That Silence Drear A Sound Of Music Reached My Ear, And Then A Note, I Hear It Yet, So Full Of Soul, So Deeply Sweet, I Thought That Gabriel'S Self Had Come To Take Me To Thy Father'S Home. Three Times It Rose, That Seraph Strain, Then Died, Nor Breathed Again; But Still The Words And Still The Tone Dwell Round My Heart When All Alone.