Classic Poem

1

When little children weep we smile upon their tears,
And a truer, brighter smile on the dewy face appears;
Oh! Grief that comes so fast and makes so little stay,
Is like the snow of Springtide, which falls to melt away.

2

The happy Shepherd's flute across the Lake we hear,
And love the softened sound more than music full and clear —
Content with scattered notes of that far distant strain,
We ask not of the melody to trace its mazy chain.

3

And oh! how small a part do childish minds descry
Of all that complex world, which they view with gladdened eye!
Nor need they yet combine the forms and hues of earth,
Each in itself hath charms for them and all sufficient worth.

4

But children have their sorrow, for Fancy does them wrong
And binds the unresisting soul with fetters hard and strong;
(They see the gloomy sky nor know 'tis here decreed
That sunshine follow every storm and light to shade succeed).

5

The outward show of things these little ones behold,
And when their heart is warm all they look upon is gold;
But when the spirit flags while the tapers dimly burn,
They see not how it goes, nor how it may return.

6

I love thee little brother when smiles are on thy face, —
Thy child-like perfect merriment and never-failing grace:
But when the shadow darkens thee and chills thy timid breast,
I'd watch from eve till daybreak that thou mightst be at rest.

7

I dread the ghastly witch and the goblin of the dark,
And often shrink with fear till the singing of the lark;
But pity makes us bold, and to hide them, dear, from thee,
I'd stand and face them steadfastly till morning bids them flee.

8

Come listen to my voice while I tell thee of a land,
Where thou and I will dwell with a merry merry band;
Where darkness never falls on the meadows gay and bright,
Except the pleasant shadow all islanded in light.