BOOKS

‘ Tis early morn and on the green

The children are at play;

The sunlight falls in sparkling sheen,

Their hearts are blithe and gay:

A shadow flits across the scene —

The hour has come that sadness brings,

The master rings, the master rings,

‘ Tis books!

‘ Tis late at eve, and o'er the green

The weary toilers pass;

The shadows fall, the sky's serene,

And dew is on the grass:

A light breaks in upon the scene —

The hour has come that gladness brings,

The Master rings, the Master rings,

‘ Tis books!