Classic Poem

FOR J. P.

It was in pleasant Derbyshire,
Upon a bright spring day,
From a valley to a valley
I sought to find a way;
And I met a little lad,
A lad both blithe and bold;

And his eyes were of the blue,
And his hair was of the gold.
" Ho! little lad, of yonder point
The name come quickly tell! "
Then, prompt as any echo,
Came the answer: — " Tap o' th' hill. "
" But has it any other name
That a man may say — as thus —
Kinderscout , or Fairbrook Naze? "
Then said the child, with constant gaze: —
" Tap o' th' hill it gets with us. "

" Yes, yes! " I said, " but has it not
Some other name as well?
Its own, you know? " " Aye, aye! " he said,
" Tap o' th' hill! tap o' th' hill! "
" But your father, now? how calls it he? "
Then clear as is a bell
Rang out the merry laugh: — " Of course,
He calls it Tap o' th' hill! "
So I saw it was no use;
But I said within myself: —
" He has a wholesome doctrine,
This cheerful little elf. "
And O, the weary knowledge!
And O, the hearts that swell!
And O, the blessed limit —
" Tap o' th' hill! tap o' th' hill! "