She Was But A Child, A Child, And I A Man Grown; Sweet She Was, And Fresh, And Wild, And, I Thought, My Own. What Could I Do? The Long Grass Groweth, The Long Wave Floweth With A Murmur On: The Why And The Wherefore Of It All Who Knoweth? Ere I Thought To Lose Her She Was Grown - And Gone. This Day Or That Day In Warm Spring Weather. The Lamb That Was Tame Will Yearn To Break Its Tether. "But If The World Wound Thee," I Said, "Come Back To Me, Down In The Dell Wishing - Wishing, Wishing For Thee." The Dews Hang On The White May, Like A Ghost It Stands, All In The Dusk Before Day That Folds The Dim Lands: Dark Fell The Skies When Once Belated, Sad, And Sorrow-Fated, I Missed The Sun; But Wake, Heart, And Sing, For Not In Vain I Waited. O Clear, O Solemn Dawning, Lo, The Maid Is Won! Sweet Dews, Dry Early On The Grass And Clover, Lest The Bride Wet Her Feet While She Walks Over; Shine To-Day, Sunbeams, And Make All Fair To See: Down The Dell SHe's Coming - Coming, Coming With Me.