Elizabeth Cary Agassiz, Louis Agassiz: his life and correspondence, third edition

And whenever the way seemed long,
     Or his heart began to fail,
She would sing a more wonderful song,
     Or tell a more marvelous tale.

So she keeps him still a child,
     And will not let him go,
Though at times his heart beats wild
     For the beautiful Pays de Vaud;

Though at times he hears in his dreams
     The Ranz des Vaches of old,
And the rush of mountain streams
     From glaciers clear and cold;

And the mother at home says, “Hark!
     For his voice I listen and yearn;
It is growing late and dark,
     And my boy does not return!”