Poems (Tynan)/A Child's Day
SHAMROCKS
A CHILD'S DAY
When I was a little child It was always golden weather. My days stretched out so long From rise to set of sun, I sang and danced and smiled— My light heart like a feather—From morn to even-song; The child's days are done.
I used to wake with the birds— The little birds wake early, For the sunshine leaps and plays On the mother's head and wing—And the clouds were white as curds, The apple-trees stood pearly: I always think of the child's days As one unending Spring.
I knew where all flowers grew. I used to lie in the meadow Ere reaping-time and mowing-time And carting home the hay. And O the skies were blue! O drifting light and shadow! It was another time and clime— The little child's sweet day.
And in the long day's waning The skies grew rose and amber, And palest green and gold, With a moon's white flame: And if came wind and raining. Gray hours I don't remember; Nor how the warm year waxed cold, And deathly Autumn came.
Only of that young time The bright things I remember; How orchard boughs were laden red, And blackberries so brave Came ere the frost and rime— The dreary dark November, With dripping black boughs overhead, And dead leaves on a grave.