CHILDREN AT PLAY

I hear a merry noise indeed:

Is it the geese and ducks that take

Their first plunge in a quiet pond

That into scores of ripples break —

Or children make this merry sound?

I see an oak tree, its strong back

Could not be bent an inch though all

Its leaves were stone, or iron even:

A boy, with many a lusty call,

Rides on a bough bareback through Heaven.

I see two children dig a hole

And plant in it a cherry-stone:

“We'll come to-morrow,” one child said —

“And then the tree will be full grown,

And all its boughs have cherries red.”

Ah, children, what a life to lead:

You love the flowers, but when they're past

No flowers are missed by your bright eyes;

And when cold winter comes at last,

Snowflakes shall be your butterflies.