Childhood

Three little maids from school are we, Pert as a schoolgirl well can be, Filled to the brim with girlish glee.

Child of the pure, unclouded brow And dreaming eyes of wonder! Though time be fleet and I and thou Are half a life asunder, Thy loving smile will surely hail The love-gift of a fairy tale.

There was a child went forth every day, And the first object he look’d upon, that object he became.

The horizon’s edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance of salt marsh and shore mud, These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes, and will always go forth every day.

A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.

When I was a beggarly boy, And lived in a cellar damp, I had not a friend nor a toy, But I had Aladdin’s lamp.

We wove a web in childhood, A web of sunny air.

I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee— With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven Coveted her and me.

From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were—I have not seen As others saw.

Blessings on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!

There was a little girl Who had a little curl Right in the middle of her forehead; And when she was good She was very, very good, But when she was bad she was horrid.

Glimmering stars of the Great Bear, I never thought I’d be back to see you Shining down on my father’s garden, Nor talk to you ever again from the windows Of this house where I spent my childhood And saw the last of my happiness vanish.

A schoolboy’s tale, the wonder of an hour!

I have had playmates, I have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful school days— All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower.

The youth, who daily farther from the east At length the man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.

As if his whole vocation Were endless imitation.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The soul that rises with us, our life’s star, But trailing clouds of glory do we come Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close

Sweet childish days, that were as long As twenty days are now.

My heart leaps up when I behold So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. 3

_______ A simple child, 1 That lightly draws its breath, And feels its life in every limb, What should it know of death?

When the voices of children are heard on the green And laughing is heard on the hill, My heart is at rest within my breast And everything else is still.

And I made a rural pen, And I stain’d the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear.

Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee, On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me: “Pipe a song about a Lamb.” So I piped with merry cheer; “Piper, pipe that song again.” So I piped; he wept to hear.