My long first year of perfect love, 
My deep new dream of joy; She was a little chubby girl,
I was a chubby boy.

I wore a crimson frock, white drawers,
A belt, a crown was on it;
She wore some angel's kind of dress
And such a tiny bonnet,

Old-fashioned, but the soft brown hair Would never keep its place; 
A little maid with violet eyes, 
And sunshine in her face.

O my child-queen, in those lost days
How sweet was daily living! 
How humble and how proud I grew, 
How rich by merely giving!

She went to school, the parlour-maid 
Slow stepping to her trot; 
That parlour-maid, ah, did she feel 
How lofty was her lot!
Across the road I saw her lift 
My Queen, and with a sigh 
I envied Raleigh; my new coat 
Was hung a peg too high.

A hoard of never-given gifts 
I cherished, priceless pelf; 
'Twas two whole days ere I devoured 
That peppermint myself.

In Church I only prayed for her 
'O God bless Lucy Hill;' 
Child, may His angels keep their arms 
Ever around you still.

But when the hymn came round, with heart 
That feared some heart's surprising
Its secret sweet, I climbed the seat 
'Mid rustling and uprising;

And there against her mother's arm 
The sleeping child was leaning, 
While far away the hymn went on, 
The music and the meaning.

Oh I loved with more of pain 
Since then, with more of passion, 
Loved with the aching in my love 
After our grown-up fashion;

Yet could I almost be content 
To lose here at your feet 
A year or two, you murmuring elm, 
To dream a dream so sweet.