WHEN I was a little child It was always golden weather. My days stretched out so long From rise to set of sun, I sang and danced and smiled— My light heart like a feather— From morn to evensong; The child's days are done. I used to wake with the birds— The little birds wake early, For the sunshine leaps and plays On the mother's head and wing— And the clouds were white as curds, The apple-trees stood pearly: I always think of the child's days As one unending Spring. I knew where all flowers grew. I used to lie in the meadow Ere reaping-time and mowing-time And carting home the hay. And O the skies were blue! O drifting light and shadow! It was another time and clime— The little child's sweet day. And in the long day's waning The skies grew rose and amber, And palest green and gold, With a moon's white flame: And if came wind and raining, Grey hours I don't remember; Nor how the warm year waxèd cold, And deathly Autumn came. Only of that young time The bright things I remember; How orchard boughs were laden red, And blackberries so brave Came ere the frost and rime— The dreary dark November, With dripping black boughs overhead, And dead leaves on a grave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MOUSE'S PETITION TO DOCTOR PRIESTLY FOUND IN THE TRAP .. by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD OFF THE GROUND by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THE BRITISH CHURCH by GEORGE HERBERT THE COUNTY OF MAYO by THOMAS LAVELLE NORTHERN FARMER, NEW STYLE by ALFRED TENNYSON THE VILLAGE MUNITIONS CO., INC.; FORMERLY THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |