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Poem 45: THE SCHOOLBOY
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| | I love to rise in a summer morn, | |
| | When the birds sing on every tree; | |
| | The distant huntsman winds his horn, | |
| | And the skylark sings with me: | |
| | O what sweet company! | |
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| | But to go to school in a summer morn, - | |
| | O it drives all joy away! | |
| | Under a cruel eye outworn, | |
| | The little ones spend the day | |
| | In sighing and dismay. | |
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| | Ah then at times I drooping sit, | |
| | And spend many an anxious hour; | |
| | Nor in my book can I take delight, | |
| | Nor sit in learning's bower, | |
| | Worn through with the dreary shower. | |
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| | How can the bird that is born for joy | |
| | Sit in a cage and sing? | |
| | How can a child, when fears annoy, | |
| | But droop his tender wing, | |
| | And forget his youthful spring! | |
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| | O father and mother if buds are nipped, | |
| | And blossoms blown away; | |
| | And if the tender plants are stripped | |
| | Of their joy in the springing day, | |
| | By sorrow and care's dismay, - | |
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| | How shall the summer arise in joy, | |
| | Or the summer fruits appear? | |
| | Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy, | |
| | Or bless the mellowing year, | |
| | When the blasts of winter appear? | |
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