ALL day, all day, the village lads are out -- It is so pleasant and so clear a weather -- And my lad, too, is somewhere thereabout; For as of old they spin their tops together. Out past the ivied fences do they crowd; I hear their shouts, now one, and now another; But his above them all, so sweetly loud; They hear it not -- but I, I am his mother. A cloudy thing, I see him in the sun, That little lad, so long and long forgot, By other lads in this and any weather: And still he keeps his playtimes one by one; And still, although his neighbors know it not, Day-long, week-long, they spin their tops together. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTEMPLATIONS by ANNE BRADSTREET HUMAN LIFE by AUBREY THOMAS DE VERE BOY BRITTAN [FEBRUARY 8, 1862] by BYRON FORCEYTHE WILLSON THE COMING OF HIS FEET by LYMAN WHITNEY ALLEN RUTGERS COLLEGE HYMN by LOUIS BEVIER JR. DEATH OF CHILDHOOD BELIEFS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN DEPARTURE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 68. THE THREE AGES OF WOMAN: 3 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |