Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE CHILDREN, by EDITH BLAND NESBIT 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! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE THREE CHILDREN by JOSEPHINE JACOBSEN CHILDREN SELECTING BOOKS IN A LIBRARY by RANDALL JARRELL COME TO THE STONE ... by RANDALL JARRELL THE LOST WORLD by RANDALL JARRELL A SICK CHILD by RANDALL JARRELL CONTINENT'S END by ROBINSON JEFFERS ON THE DEATH OF FRIENDS IN CHILDHOOD by DONALD JUSTICE THE POET AT SEVEN by DONALD JUSTICE A BALLAD OF CANTERBURY by EDITH BLAND NESBIT |
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