Ballads and Other Poems By Mary Howitt |
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VILLAGE CHILDREN. |
 | Ballads and Other Poems |  |
343
VILLAGE CHILDREN.
Like the wild birds on the trees,
Like the wingëd autumn breeze,
Like whate'er has life and gladness,
Unallied to thought and sadness,
Are ye, children blithe and boon,
Shouting to the harvest-moon;
And your joy, like waters free,
Bubbles forth perpetually.
Nought ye heed that ye must toil,
Sons and daughters of the soil;
That within this quiet place
Ye must run your simple race,
Never know the stir and strife
Of a loftier, nobler life;
That your bones, where ye have played,
By your fathers' shall be laid.
Nought ye care for learning vain,
Which but dulleth pulse and brain:
Ye are neither deep nor wise;
Ye shall ne'er philosophise.
Lowly ones, that matters not,
Doth not gloom your humble lot,
Doth not make one ray depart
From the sunshine of your heart.
Like the wingëd autumn breeze,
Like whate'er has life and gladness,
Unallied to thought and sadness,
Are ye, children blithe and boon,
Shouting to the harvest-moon;
And your joy, like waters free,
Bubbles forth perpetually.
Nought ye heed that ye must toil,
Sons and daughters of the soil;
That within this quiet place
Ye must run your simple race,
Never know the stir and strife
Of a loftier, nobler life;
That your bones, where ye have played,
By your fathers' shall be laid.
344
Which but dulleth pulse and brain:
Ye are neither deep nor wise;
Ye shall ne'er philosophise.
Lowly ones, that matters not,
Doth not gloom your humble lot,
Doth not make one ray depart
From the sunshine of your heart.
Happy children! here ye run
Gaily in the summer's sun;
'Neath this village tree ye play;
Down these shadowy lanes ye stray
Gathering flowers, or singing wild
To some younger laughing child.
'Tis a kindly life ye lead;
Such as poet hath decreed
To that earlier, happy time,
Ere the earth was gloomed by crime.
Gaily in the summer's sun;
'Neath this village tree ye play;
Down these shadowy lanes ye stray
Gathering flowers, or singing wild
To some younger laughing child.
'Tis a kindly life ye lead;
Such as poet hath decreed
To that earlier, happy time,
Ere the earth was gloomed by crime.
Simple ones, and full of gladness,
Ye shall school my spirit's sadness.
Never-ending joy ye find
In your own contented mind;
Sending not your spirits out
Searching wearily about
For ideal things, that lie
Nowhere underneath the sky.
I, like you, will find delight
On the left hand and the right,
Nor o'erlook the treasure sweet
Which is lying at my feet.
Ye shall school my spirit's sadness.
345
In your own contented mind;
Sending not your spirits out
Searching wearily about
For ideal things, that lie
Nowhere underneath the sky.
I, like you, will find delight
On the left hand and the right,
Nor o'erlook the treasure sweet
Which is lying at my feet.
Children, though untaught ye be,
Thus ye shall be guides to me.
Thus ye shall be guides to me.
| Ballads and Other Poems | |