Foliage: Various Poems

CHILDREN AT PLAY

     I hear a merry noise indeed:
       Is it the geese and ducks that take
     Their first plunge in a quiet pond
       That into scores of ripples break—
     Or children make this merry sound?

     I see an oak tree, its strong back
       Could not be bent an inch though all
     Its leaves were stone, or iron even:
       A boy, with many a lusty call,
     Rides on a bough bareback through Heaven.

     I see two children dig a hole
       And plant in it a cherry-stone:
     "We'll come to-morrow," one child said—
       "And then the tree will be full grown,
     And all its boughs have cherries red."

     Ah, children, what a life to lead:
       You love the flowers, but when they're past
     No flowers are missed by your bright eyes;

     Snowflakes shall be your butterflies.