That I shall miss you When you have grown.

[~¤Akash¤~]

A Cradle Song by William Butler Yeats​

The angels are stooping
Above your bed;
They weary of trooping
With the whimpering dead.

God's laughing in Heaven
To see you so good;
The Sailing Seven
Are gay with His mood.

I sigh that kiss you,
For I must own
That I shall miss you
When you have grown.