Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE CHILDREN, by EDITH BLAND NESBIT



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE CHILDREN, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Spring! - almost summer! The winter's gone
Last Line: The first of all who shall gather there!
Alternate Author Name(s): Nesbit, E.; Bland, Mrs. Hubert
Subject(s): Children; Socialism; Spring; Childhood


SPRING! -- almost summer! The winter's gone,
His reign is over, his hour is done!
Here's the crumpled green of the new-born leaves,
Here are baby-sparrows 'neath cottage eaves;
And the apple orchards are thick with bloom,
And the woods are gathering their summer gloom;
And the cottage gardens are gay and bright
With the wallflower brown and the rock-plant white;
And the heart of the risen year beats free
In meadow and forest, in flower and tree;
It beats in the prisoned hearts of men,
Till vaguely, vainly they long again
For the joy that is promised by every spring,
The joy no summer will ever bring.
And the children wander by field and brake,
And clap their hands for the daisies' sake.
The bountiful summer laughs and throws
Her garment of green and her wreath of rose
On great vile cities that men have raised,
Where her name is unloved, unknown, unpraised,
And only gold is counted of worth
Of all the gifts of the goodly earth.
And in this desert that men have made
Grow white-faced children that never played
With daisies and cowslips, nor laughed and lay
On the hot gray heaps of the scented hay --
The poor pale children who never have heard
The perfect song of an uncaged bird:
They never have gathered a growing flower,
Or strayed through a wood for a truant hour --
They sit in groups and they seem to wait,
Unfriended and hopeless and desolate.

Do they wait for the hero who is to come
To teach them the meaning of love and home --
To take them away from the heavy frown
Of the high black walls and the cruel town,
To where there is light and a rest from noise,
And love for the children of men, and toys?
Who is to save them? Ah! I and you
Have the chance and the choice this fair deed to do.
Where Gold is god, there the children must
Be ground 'neath his wheels in the bloody dust;
But if Love be god -- and a temple raised
Where gold shall be cursed and love be praised --
When the temple is clean and the altar fair,
The children their garlands shall bring and bear
The first of all who shall gather there!







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