 | The Poems of A. C. Benson |  |
267
CHILDHOOD
What do I remember of the bygone days?
Little of the sorrow, something of the praise.
Little of the sorrow, something of the praise.
Pleasant games of childhood, in the pleasant shade,
Toiling at a pleasure, playing at a trade!
Toiling at a pleasure, playing at a trade!
Often very weary, never glad to rest,
Taking love and laughter with a reckless zest.
Taking love and laughter with a reckless zest.
Claiming, howso heedless, still to be approved;
Cold to those that loved me, wroth with those I loved.
Cold to those that loved me, wroth with those I loved.
Now that I am older, what is left behind?
Still the restless wonder, still the childish mind.
Still the restless wonder, still the childish mind.
Still I take, unthankful, service, love, delight.
Laugh to see the morning, murmur at the night.
Laugh to see the morning, murmur at the night.
Do I doubt Thy goodness, question of Thy will?
Father, Lord, forgive us—we are children still.
Father, Lord, forgive us—we are children still.
| The Poems of A. C. Benson | |