Poems (Stephens)/Coming from school

by Eliza Jane Stephens

COMING FROM SCHOOL.

They are coming, happy children,
 School is out and they're at play,—
Coming through the lane and orchard,
 Surely not the nearest way

Rosy cheeks and eyes that sparkle,
 Laugh that's ringing loud and free,
Constant din of childish prattle,
 Not a heart hut's tilled with glee.

Roaming here and there 'mid flowers,
 Playing drive, or take a ride,
Counting o'er the mountain frolics,
 Source alike of joy and pride.

Naught care they for wealth or fashion,
 Bonnets swinging in the hand;
Fairy locks are freely waving.
 Round the brows so deeply tanned.

Little hats are clutched half brimless,
 Butterflies must now take care,
Earnestly, ea(;h youthful sportsman
 Longs to take them in his snare.

Tiny feet are treading homeward,
 By the brook and 'long the hill,
Pausing at each downy bird's nest,
 And the rocks beside the mill.

Merry shout and songs and laughter,
 Fall united on the ear,
Sweet enough to rouse the languid,
 And the drooping spirit cheer.

They are weaving childish fancies,
 Seeing through the golden light.
Everyday, as it advances,
 Bringing something pure and bright.

Life with them is sport and pastime,
 Earth a paradise of flowers,
And they revel 'mid its beauties,
 Dreaming not of wintry hours.

Tell them not of their delusion,
 Nor recite some woeful tale,
Better list to their rejoicings
 Than to hear them sigh and wail.

Soon enough they'll share the anguish,
 Soon enough will join the strife,
Bear the burdens and the crosses,
 Know indeed what's meant by Life.