| |
| I LOVE to rise in a summer morn | |
| When the birds sing on every tree; | |
| The distant huntsman winds his horn, | |
| And the sky-lark sings with me. | |
| O! what sweet company. | 5 |
| |
| But to go to school in a summer morn, | |
| O! it drives all joy away; | |
| Under a cruel eye outworn, | |
| The little ones spend the day | |
| In sighing and dismay. | 10 |
| |
| Ah! then at times I drooping sit, | |
| And spend many an anxious hour, | |
| Nor in my book can I take delight, | |
| Nor sit in learning’s bower, | |
| Worn thro’ with the dreary shower. | 15 |
| |
| How can the bird that is born for joy | |
| Sit in a cage and sing; | |
| How can a child, when fears annoy, | |
| But droop his tender wing, | |
| And forget his youthful spring? | 20 |
| |
| O! father and mother, if buds are nip’d | |
| And blossoms blown away, | |
| And if the tender plants are strip’d | |
| Of their joy in the springing day, | |
| By sorrow and care’s dismay, | 25 |
| |
| How shall the summer arise in joy, | |
| Or the summer fruits appear? | |
| Or how shall we gather what griefs destroys | |
| Or bless the mellowing year, | |
| When the blasts of winter appear? | 30 |
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