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INTRODUCTORY SONG.
Henry Wadswoktii Longfellow. |
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Come to me, O ye children!
For I hear you at your play, And the questions that perplexed me
Have vanished quite away.
Ye open the eastern windows,
That look toward the sun, Where thoughts are singing swallows,
And the brooks of morning run.
In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine, In your thoughts the brooklet's flow,
But in mine is the wTind of Autumn And the first fall of the snow.
Ah! what would the world be to us
If the children were no more ? We should dread the desert behind us,
Worse than the dark before.
What the leaves are to the forest, With light and air for food, |
Ere their sweet and tender juices Have been hardened into wood�
That to the world are children;
Through them it feels the glow Of a brighter and sunnier climate
Than reaches the trunks below.
Come to me, O ye children!
And whisper in my ear, What the birds and the winds are singing
In your sunny atmosphere.
For what are all our contriviugs, And the wisdom of our books,
When compared with your caresses, And the gladness of your looks?
Ye are better than all the ballads
That ever were sung or said, For ye are the living poems,
And all the rest are dead! |
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