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...UPON WEDLOCK, AND DEATH OF CHILDREN by EDWARD TAYLOR THE PRINCESS: SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 39. NOT CHRIST, BUT CHRIST'S GOD by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) ECHOES OF SPRING: 8 by MATHILDE BLIND THE YELLOWHAMMER by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |